8th Year:Harry Potter and the Descendant of Merlin
by Espiritu Invictus
Summary: Life has continued for the three friends, but as peace seems to be returning, evil begins to rear its ugly head within the shadows of the Wizarding world. New friends arise to aid Harry Potter as he tries to fight evil and train as an Auror. Please R/R!
1. The Cabin in the Woods

**Harry Potter and the Descendant of Merlin**

**The 8****th**** Year**

Chapter One

**The Cabin in the Woods**

"Do you really think she's safe here?" the man asked, warming his hands by the light of the small oil lamp sitting on the table. The woman with him walked out of the darkness into the small gleam of light. Her young face was tired, but she glanced over the table towards the wall. Against the wall behind them, their daughter lay on a bed sleeping peacefully. She glanced back to her husband and with a small sigh and said, "It's safer here. They'll be searching the Manor any day now."

The man nodded, not completely understanding, but trusting his wife, he glanced back at his daughter then turned back towards the woman as she took a seat across the table. She put her head in her hands. "These are bad times, Mark. Never in its entire history has Hogwarts been mandatory for children. Something is really wrong. They've completely infiltrated the Ministry if something like this has happened."

Mark sat silently contemplating the situation. After all, he was a Muggle. He reached out and took the hand of his worried wife and squeezed it tightly. They had been married for many years and sometimes he had many shocking surprises about the Wizarding world over the course of that marriage, but this by far was the worst. As he sat there, he recalled the memory of their first few years of marriage—hiding with their newborn daughter and wondering if his wife was ever going to return home from the First Wizarding War. Despite the fact that he did not fully grasp the situation at hand, he _did _know that it meant danger for his family.

"I don't understand. Why would they want you?"

She glanced up at him. "Because I'm married to you."

He looked back down to the table. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," She said. "It doesn't matter to me that you're a Muggle. I love you. "

"Why is this happening again? I thought this was all over with, you know, with that…that…Wizard…"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," She supplied. The wife proceeded to remind her husband of the terrible figure that rose to power almost two decades before. She spoke of the First War, of Dumbledore, of the Order of the Phoenix, and of course the Potters. "The Prophet's keeping this all hushed up, but something is happening."

"And you inferred _all_ of this from the Mandatory Enrollment letter we got the other day for Aurora?"

The woman sighed. "Not only that."

"Then what is it?"

"I didn't have time to explain before we left, but I was called to a hearing at the Ministry of Magic."

"For what?" He asked, a little indignant with the Wizarding government.

"Our marriage."

"What about it?" He frowned. "They can't do something like that, can they?"

"I'm afraid with the way things are, they can do whatever they want. You see, Mark, there are some Wizards in this world that think their magic gives them the right to dominate. They hate muggles and anyone who associates with them. I am a traitor in their eyes. We had to leave."

"What about Aurora? Isn't she safe? She knows magic."

"But you're still her father."

A disgusted look washed over Mark's face. "What kind of people are these blokes?"

"That's what I ask myself." The woman looked over at her sleeping daughter. "Aurora would not be safe if we sent her to Hogwarts—especially with Dumbledore gone."

"But do you really think she's safe _here_?"

"I cast every spell I could think of to protect us, and not many outside our family know of this place."

"Do you think it would be prudent to send a message to your Aunt, you know, to let someone know where we are?"

The woman shook her head. "Not by owl, but I have an idea."

"What?"

"I'll need to go out for a couple of hours."

"What? Why?"

"I can cast a spell that will send a message to my Aunt, but I don't want to be anywhere near the cabin in case someone sees me."

"But it's dangerous! You said so yourself! What if someone catches you?"

"You know Aunt Minerva will worry."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, no sense ticking that woman off."

The woman stood up while rolling her eyes. "You always just know what to say or do…"

"Face it, Matilda, that Aunt of yours hates me."

"She doesn't hate you!" Matilda immediately replied. "She's just…a very serious person, and let's face it, you're not very serious sometimes."

Mark folded his arms across his chest. "Well sorry!"

She walked around the table and kissed her husband on the cheek. "Don't worry, I like funny men. That's why I picked you."

Mark slid his arms around his wife's waist and pulled her onto his lap. "Yeah, funny _looking_."

"Just like a troll," She said just before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

The young girl sleeping on the mattress began to stir. She sat up and looked around the room for a moment. "Oh, great! Locked in a one room cabin with my parents! I'd say 'get a room' but…"

Matilda broke her kiss and looked over at her daughter bashfully as she crawled off her husband's lap. "How did you sleep, darling?"

Aurora shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I'm still tired though."

Mark looked at his watch. "Well, it is four in the morning. Perhaps you'll want to sleep some more."

"I don't feel like I can."  
"Worried?" Matilda asked.

Aurora nodded and quickly her mother came to her side and sat down, throwing an arm around her shoulder. Aurora leaned into her mother and wrapped her arms around her mother's waist. "Things are getting really bad, aren't they?"

Matilda nodded.

"I've been thinking…"

"About what?"

"I want to fight…with the Order."

"Aurora!" Matilda scolded. "No!"

"Mum! I'll be seventeen in only a couple of months!"

"We're trying to keep you safe, Aurora! We're not out here just for some camping experience, you know!"

"But Mum!"

"NO! Aurora, you have to realize that we are prime targets because of our association with muggles. They will not hesitate to kill any of us on the spot because of it! They are willing to spare some—those with pure-blood—but not us. We're traitors in their eyes."

"If we don't stand up against them…"  
"NO!" Matilda stood up off the bed. "You are not going anywhere!" She stormed over to the doorway. "Stay here with your father while I go out!"

"But Mum!" Aurora leapt up off the bed. The door slammed in her face as she tried to rush after her mother. Aurora turned around and angrily kicked her foot against the table. "She's so infuriating!" The girl looked over at her father who only smirked.

"You're too much like her."

"Yes, yes, I know! I've heard!" Aurora stomped off towards her bed and sat down, brooding.

The witch known as Matilda walked away from the small cabin brooding herself. Nothing in this entire world could incense her like the feuding between herself and her daughter, but as she walked along the dark forest path, a small smirk came to her face as tears began to roll down her cheeks. She reached up, batting her long dark hair out of her face, and she wiped up her tears, but they continued to form. When she looked at her daughter, she felt as though she was looking at herself on the outside.

Feeling as if she had walked far enough, she closed her eyes, and immediately her body started to shrink and shift into a different shape. Soon, she was purely black cat scurrying across the forest floor. Despite the distance she could travel as a human would be much greater, it would be safer in her Animagus form. But even this tactic would have to be used carefully. Her Animagus form was registered with the Ministry of Magic, and if they were on the lookout for Matilda G. McGonagall, they would also be on the lookout for a black cat.

And it was in this form that she traveled for two days. She circled and turned in many directions, trying to watch if she was being followed, but finally feeling somewhat safe and secure, she transformed back into her human state. Her new surroundings were desolate and empty along the shoreline of Wales. The cool salty breeze felt good upon her sweaty and dirty face that night, but she only stood for a moment to bask in the night air. She closed her eyes and raised her wand up high. She concentrated on the person she so desperately wished to contact and the thing she desired to speak, and with swish of her wand she yelled, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A silvery flash of light burst forth from the tip of the wand, circling around the caster and taking the shape of a common house cat before flying off into the night sky. Matilda stood and watched her Patronus zoom off like a shooting star. She shivered from the cold night air and pulled her black cloak tighter around her; after taking one last look towards the misty ocean, she walked away.

The Patronus flew for miles across the countryside of the United Kingdom over the houses of unsuspecting and sleeping Muggles until it became a twinkle in the sky above an unchartable place in Scotland. The Patronus dived downwards towards an open window high on Gryffindor Tower and burst into the darkened bedroom.

Quickly, Minerva McGonagall sat up in her bed as the bedroom filled with the bright silver light. The silver cat leapt up on to her bed and repeated the message. "Left the Manor. We are all safe." And when the last word was spoken, the silver cat evaporated. Professor McGonagall put her hand over her heart and closed her eyes. Her heart pounded within her chest as she sat there in the dark. She reached for her wand and gave a swish. The candles instantly flickered with light, and she crawled out of her bed. She looked out the open window towards the grounds of the castle and sighed. Tomorrow would be the start of another school year—a school year without Albus Dumbledore. And of course, _they _were in control—those who sided with Voldemort.

Professor McGonagall turned away from the window towards her bookshelf. Among the many books on the subject of Transfiguration, teaching materials, and other personal effects, rested a picture frame with colorful glitter and stars around the frame. She gently picked up the frame and moved into the light. A small girl with long black hair and a beaming smile stood waving while her parents stood in the background. Just like the young girl, the mother had long flowing black hair and fierce deep green eyes like emeralds. The mother's face was elegant and beautiful but very kind. And while looking over at the father who made funny faces every chance his wife was not looking, Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes. It had been many years ago that her great niece, Aurora, had made this picture for a Christmas present, but she still kept in her bedroom at Hogwarts. The Professor sighed while setting it back down. The girl was probably six or seven when she made that picture for her, but now the girl was sixteen and becoming a woman. This was the only family Minerva McGonagall had left in this world, and concerning the recent events, it was not a very safe world. It was Professor McGonagall herself that warned her niece, Matilda, not to send her daughter to Hogwarts but to take the girl and run instead. Even sending her daughter to Hogwarts where her Aunt could keep watch was not safe enough. These were dark times.

McGonagall sat back down on her bed. She would have loved to have her great niece come to Hogwarts for her education, but instead the girl was home-schooled by her mother. She was sure her great niece would have been in Gryffindor and perhaps even on the Quidditch team, but Minerva dismissed these thoughts and swished her wand again, leaving her in darkness once more.

* * *

"Concentrate."

"Mum, I'm trying!"

They were out in the woods that fair spring day. The birds were singing happily, and the sun shined brighter than it seemed like it had for months. It had been almost nine months since they left home and moved to this tiny cabin in the middle of the forest. They had no visitors, and they rarely ventured out of the circle of protection set up by Matilda's charms. In the front yard of the cabin, there was an old and weathered picnic table which Mark sat upon as he sketched some pictures in his notebook. Meanwhile, his wife and daughter worked on their magic spells.

"Aurora, you have to get this one! It's important!"

"I know! I'm just tired! Can't I take a break?"

"Just try one more time."

The young girl sighed. She reached up and tucked her long black hair behind one of her ears and held her wand out. She shut her eyes tightly and swished her want. "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing happened.

Aurora sighed. "I can't. Now can we just forget it?"

"Aurora, you're not having a very good attitude." Her father looked up from his notebook while adjusting his black square rimmed glasses.

"Thank you, Mark." Matilda put her hands on her hips and looked at her daughter. "Now try it again."

"Alright." Aurora raised her wand again and closed her eyes. "Expecto Patronum!" The words came off her mouth as a silver flicker of light gleamed from the tip of her wand. The spell began to take the form of a creature like resembled a cat, but it mangled up into something unnatural. The light died.

"That was better," Matilda said.  
Aurora lowered her wand. "What is wrong with me?"

"What do you mean 'what's wrong with you?'" Matilda asked.

"Then why can't I get it right? Every time this happens! I think of something happy, and it seems like it's about to work, and then…" Aurora sighed.

"It's not an easy spell, Aurora. You just have to be patient."

"I know." The girl sighed. She looked down to her feet, letting her long black hair fall into her face. "I just…" She tried to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks, but her mother was too quick to see.

"It's alright…honestly. You just need to keep practicing. It's one of the most difficult spells…" Matilda embraced her daughter.

"Yes, you're alright, darling. Look at me—I can't do any magic at all," Mark said with a small laugh to try and cheer his daughter up.

Matilda shook her head at her husband and the man quieted down.

"I bet when you or Aunt Minerva were my age…"

"Nonsense! I didn't even learn the Patronus charm until after I graduated from Hogwarts. You know more magic that most witches your age. I've made sure of it."

"How about we have some afternoon tea?" Mark sat up and closed his notebook. "Maybe a break will help with your lessons?"

Aurora nodded.

They, however, did not continue lessons after tea. Night seemed to fall early and darkness blanketed over them within the forest. They were secluded and alone in that place, allowing Aurora a small bit of freedom to take nightly walks around the cabin. As long as she did not pass the protective ring of charms around the property, she was allowed to sit outside at night. Farthest away from the cabin as possible, she had a favorite sitting place atop a large smooth boulder where a clearing of trees allowed a beautiful window to the night sky. Tonight, the sky was crisp and clear, and the thousands of tiny lamps in the sky twinkled brightly as she looked up into the heavens.

She twirled her wand between her slender fingers, feeling the smooth polished wood. Her wand was strong, but flexible—made of laurel wood and griffin feather in the core. She remembered the moment she first grasped this wand in her hand; they were on vacation in Greece, visiting the Oracle of Delphi. The site, in the middle of Greece, appeared only to be the ancient ruins of a civilization long ago, but for those who knew better, it still was a thriving center of divination and prophecy. It was a popular vacation spot for witches and wizards all over the world, but it was there that the Lady of the Oracle presented Aurora with the wand that she twirled in her hands that night. The woman, mysterious and cryptic, told her that she would be a great witch, and that the wand had found its master.

Aurora did not feel like a great witch; she didn't deserve this wand. She was outside to clear her mind in the fresh air, but her mind naturally wandered back to today's lesson. Over and over again she practiced the Patronus charm, but it never seemed to work. It was almost there—as if she could reach out and touch it, and yet, it felt as though it were a thousand miles away from her grasp. Something felt out of sync, but she could not discern what it was. She sighed, watching her exhale in the cold night air. She was not a great witch as the Lady of the Oracle predicted.

A stick snapped. Aurora immediately reached for her wand and spun around, but only seeing her father, she lowered her wand. The man was used to having wands pointed at him when he startled one of his family members so he did not flinch. "Aurora, I think you should come inside now. It's getting late."

"I'm not outside the charm barrier."

"That's not what I said. I asked you to come inside."

Aurora put her wand away and slid down off the rock. She walked up to her father, and he slid an arm around her.

"Why are you outside without a cloak?"

"I'm not chilly," she lied.

"Honestly, you're going to get yourself sick." He took off his jacket and threw it around his daughter's arms. The girl wrapped the jacket tighter around her small body and breathed in her father's scent.

"Thanks, dad," She looked up at him.

"You're welcome." He looked down at her with a small smile.

They walked a little ways in silence before she spoke again.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you meet mum again?"

"Aurora, you've heard that story a thousand times."

"I know, but…"

"I told you—we were circus performers at rival circuses…"

"Dad!" Aurora said, impatiently, cutting off one of her father's long winded fabrications.

"Your mother and her friends thought it was a good idea to use one of those magical charms on me…you know…the one that blindfolds you…"

"Obscuro?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I already know that part."

"Then what do you want to know?"

"I guess I'm wondering why you'd…" She looked away. "Nevermind."

"What?"

"Forget it."

"No, seriously, what is it?"

Aurora bit her lip. "Why would you want to marry mum? I mean, she's a witch, and you're a…muggle."

They continued a few more steps before Mark decided to answer. And they stopped as they reached the front yard of the cabin. "Aurora," He said, putting his hand upon her shoulder. "I love your mum, and she loves me. Magic has little to do with love. I am a human, and she is a human—there's no difference between us."

"I know that…" Aurora interrupted. "It's just…"

"What?"

"I know we're the same, but everyone treats you like you're different. Don't you ever wish you had magic?"

Usually Mark would answer no to that question whenever Aurora asked it, but this time he looked her in the eye with a saddened expression. "I only regret not having magic when my family is in danger of things more powerful than I could ever hope to be." His voice quivered as he spoke. "Magic or not, Aurora, I will do everything I can to keep you safe."

Aurora nodded and looked down to her feet, feeling guilty for asking such questions.

"Shall we get inside now? It's rather chilly out here." He led the way into the cabin. Matilda was already making the beds up with the waving of her wand as they stepped into the cabin. As the door closed behind them, she gave another flick of her wand towards the door to lock it. The family silently prepared for bedtime, and once they were all in their places, Matilda gave one last wave of her wand to blow out the candles.

The night seemed peaceful enough, but even though Aurora and her father drifted fast into sleep, Matilda tossed and turned in her sleep. Her husband, who slept like the dead, never noticed her turning, but she stirred restlessly as images flashed before her mind's eye.

The McGonagall family was known for many special things within the Wizarding world—being sorted into Gryffindor for centuries, talented in Transfiguration, and possessing the rare ability of being Animagi; however, Matilda McGonagall possessed a foreign skill that had baffled most of her family—divination and prophecy. As she lay in bed that night, blurry images and premonitions stirred within her, often waking her into a cold sweat.

* * *

Aurora looked up into the late morning sky while wiping the sweat off her forehead. She reached down into the brown earth and pulled up a thick patch of weeds and tossed it off to the side in a pile. "You know, this would go a lot faster if you'd let me use my wand."

Mark only smiled as he continued to tend to the garden behind the cabin. Since they were alone in this place, they tried to be as self-sufficient as possible by planting a garden. "There's something special about doing things with your hands, Aurora." He stopped and took a deep breath of fresh air.

"Yes, it takes longer," She snickered.

"Yes, very funny."

The cabin door slowly opened, screeching at the hinges loudly. Both Mark and Aurora looked up at Matilda who stood in the doorway still in her pajamas. Her arms were crossed and her shoulders hunched as she stood there quietly while her long black hair was matted from sleep.

"Mum, are you alright?" Aurora asked, never quite seeing her mother that ruff looking before.

"Yes, yes, darling, I'm fine," She said, flustered.

Aurora turned her attention back to the weeds; however, Mark continued to stare at his wife. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and then he stood up straight and took a step towards the cabin. "Perhaps we should stop for today. Aurora, would you finish up with your wand while I go talk to your mother?"

Aurora looked up, noticing her father's sudden change of posture. She bit her lip as questions wanted to fly out of her mouth, but she only nodded and said, "Sure, dad." Her father headed into the cabin while she remained outside and pulled out her wand.

Mark stepped inside the cabin and closed the door behind him. Immediately, Matilda swished her wand. "Muffliato." Afterwards, she turned towards the kitchen counter and started to prepare a cup of tea. "Tea, dear?"

"No, thanks." He sat down.

She continued to occupy herself with frivolous things as he sat there waiting for her to speak, but knowing his wife too well, he knew she did not like to speak of things that disturbed her. "Tell me what's wrong, Matilda."

The woman laid down her spoon with a sigh and put her hands on the countertop. It took a moment for her to find her voice. "I don't exactly know, but something doesn't…feel right."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel...like something is really wrong"

"Like what?"

Matilda shook her head. "I don't know. I just…last night…I…" The woman stood there, beginning to tremble as she tried to find her words. Her eyes, deep emerald, gazed over as she stared off into the distance. The cabin was left behind as images flashed before her mind and she stepped into a different world. Before her, there was a room filled with stacks of papers reaching as high as the ceiling. Some of the stacks would collapse and fall over as people weaved around the skyscrapers of paper. The people, dressed like wizards and witches, paced back and forth hurriedly digging through the papers and file cabinets of the large and expansive room. One particular short stack appeared in front of her—the papers flipping one by one like a picture book until they suddenly stopped. Upon the piece of parchment was the fading handwriting of an official looking document. Her eyes darted to the bottom of the paper where the name Amandus McGonagall was signed with an elegant flare.

Matilda came back into reality and the familiar sight of the cabin felt before her eyes. She stared up towards the ceiling as she lay on the floor with her head cradled in her husband's arms.

"They know we're here."

"What do you mean? How?"

She shot up straight. "The deed! They saw the deed!" Matilda immediately scrambled up to her feet and grabbed her wand off the kitchen table. "We have to get out of here!" She headed for the backdoor and stuck her head outside. "Aurora, get your things! We have to go!"

Aurora turned around, her wand in hand, but as she turned her around, her eyes widened.

The next moment was a blur as a fiery gust of wind knocked her to her backside. Flying pieces of wood and debris flew overhead as she looked up from her backside into the bright blue sky. It seemed like forever before she heard another sound, but faintly, what seemed muffled and a thousand miles away, someone called her name. She startled greatly as her mother ran up to her grabbing her shoulder to shake her. She stared up at her mother who was bleeding badly on the side of her head. Aurora sat up with the aid of her mother feeling dizzy and confused. Through her watery vision, she saw her father stumbling across the yard.

"Mark! She's over here!" Matilda looked over at her husband, but as he stumbled across the yard towards them, he suddenly was pulled up into the air as if he was being grabbed by the ankle.

"DAD!"

Aurora stumbled to her feet.

"Don't move!"

Aurora turned to her left in the direction from where the voice came. Her mother already stood with her wand pointed in that direction with a fierce look on her face.

"Put him down, Rigel!"

Aurora glanced over at her mother, who apparently knew the man who stood with his wand pointing at her father, but she turned her attention back towards the man. He was stern looking man with dark black hair combed and slicked back. His manner of dress—neatly fit black robes—was elegant, giving him an aura of confidence and attractiveness.

The man only laughed at the request as he jerked his wand up and down a bit, sending Aurora's father up and down in the process. Her father was terrified of broom rides and thus found himself frightened as the mysterious wizard played with him like a cat playing with its food before eating it.

"I said '_put him down, Rigel_!'" Matilda said sternly. The wizard continued to grin as he flicked the wand up and down, listening to the man scream louder and louder. "PUT HIM DOWN, DAGON!"

The man looked over at Matilda stunned. He stared at her for a moment then gave a swish of his wand, releasing his prisoner from his spell. Mark fell to the ground with a hard thump straight on his shoulder. Painfully, he scrambled to his feet and ran over to his family—standing in front of them with his arm of protection over them.

"Mark…" Matilda put her hand on his arm, pulling it down, ready to step forward with her wand ready.

The mysterious wizard laughed. "Do you really think you can protect them, you muggle filth?"

Aurora watched as her father became very flustered at the mocking of the mysterious wizard. His ears turned a shade of bright red while he gritted his teeth. "Just stay away from my family! I'm warning you!"

The wizard only laughed harder, causing Mark to become even more flustered. The laugher brought a chill to the air and sent shivers down Aurora's spine.

"What are you doing here, Rigel?" Matilda stepped forward, her wand still pointed towards the wizard.

"Why I came for you, darling," He said with a smug look upon his face.

Aurora looked over at her mother searching for a reaction, but her mothers face remained fierce and stern.

"Rigel, I am a married woman…"

"Married to that filth!" He spat, failing his arms. "You're only alive because of my protection, but the Dark Lord will not take no for an answer anymore! Any witch or wizard who will not join our cause must die!"

"Then you should know my answer!" She stood up straight, ready to attack.

The wizard shook his head and lowered his wand for a moment. "Matilda, darling, think about what you are saying." He looked up at her. "Come with me, and together, we could serve the Dark Lord in his new world. No more hiding our magic. No more fear of the Muggles. We would be free to do…whatever we wanted."

"At what price, Rigel? Countless innocents would die!"

"Countless muggles would be slaughtered like the primitive animals they are!" The wizard roared. "Matilda, this is our chance! Think about it!"

"You haven't changed a bit." Matilda shook her head. "You're still the same—no love, no compassion, no remorse!"

"I'll even let that little half-blood daughter of yours come along…"

"You keep your mouth shut, you wanker!" Mark yelled.

The wizard did not know what this muggle term meant, but from the tone of voice, he knew it couldn't mean something pleasant. "How dare you!" He raised his wand angrily. "Crucio!" The wizard yelled with a swish of the wand.

"Leave us…" The curse hit Mark directly, cutting him off mid-sentence. The curse surged through his body causing him to fall on his knees writhing in pain.

"Protego!" Matilda flicked her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Aurora followed up after her mother.

The Cruciatus Curse broke from the protection spell cast by Matilda and shortly after Aurora's spell ripped the wand from the wizard, sending him flying backwards.

The two witches stood silent with their wands ready, but as the mysterious wizard sat up, he began to laugh roughly. "Very clever, very clever—I see you make an excellent team." He stood up to his feet, brushing the dust off his midnight black robes. "But I have a few friends myself."

Laughter surrounded them. Matilda and Aurora moved closer to Mark who was lying on the ground still in pain. They continued to hold up their wands as they surveyed their surroundings. From all sides, wizards and witches dressed in dark clothing with pointed hoods and silver masks surrounded them, stepping closer to entrap them.

"Death Eaters," Matilda muttered to her daughter. "Stay behind me." She held out her arm over her daughter, and together, they slowly moved towards the center where Mark laid on the ground. "And how did you get through my protective charms, Rigel?" Matilda asked to the first wizard.

The wizard, the only one who did not wear a mask, grinned widely. "You underestimate the power of the Dark Lord and his servants. He trains us in more powerful magic that you could ever dream. Your pathetic charms cannot hold up against the power of Dark Magic."

"Just who do you think you are, coming here and…" Aurora blurted out.

"Aurora!" Matilda hissed, pushing her daughter back.

The wizard laughed. "Pardon me," He bowed. "I have forgotten my manners. I am Dagon from the House of Rigel." Truly, he was a very noble-looking and handsome man, but the twist of evil in his heart clearly surfaced into his aura through his smile and eyes. "And you are, silly girl, the daughter of Matilda McGonagall and that filth of a Muggle…"

Aurora pushed her mother's arm away and raised her wand. "Insult my father one more time!"

"Aurora, please…" Mark staggered to his feet. "Don't."

The girl lowered her wand and turned to her father to help him up. They turned their attention to one of the Death Eaters as his cruel voice spoke up.

"They should be punished for speaking in such a way, Dagon! They have no reverence for the Dark Lord!"

"I agree!" Another voice, female, spoke up. "They should be taught a lesson that they will never forget!"

All of the Death Eaters began to share their input or insults loudly among themselves for a few moments until Dagon raised his hand for silence. They soon fell quiet as they waited for him to speak. He stood for a moment, relishing the power of making them go silent, before speaking. "Seize the woman. Eliminate the filth."

"And the girl?" One spoke up.

"I said, 'eliminate the filth.' There is not room for the corruption of half-bloods in the Dark Lord's kingdom."

"PROTEGO!" Matilda yelled loudly. Soon, the family of three was under a protective shield of magic as multiple curses flew at them. "RUN!" Matilda turned back to her family.

"AURORA, GO!" Mark pushed Aurora towards the escape while Matilda held the protective shield. They were soon confronted by Death Eaters from the rear. Aurora swished her wand. "STUPEFY!"

One of the Death Eaters, hit in the chest, fell to the ground, but the other two continued to fire spells in their direction. Word storms of spells filled the air as flashes of light shot in all directions from the many wands. But one spell that screamed in her ear was _Crucio_. She quickly spun around to see if her mother was hit, but she tripped and fell to the ground.

She glanced up for a moment, trying to scramble to her feet. The Death Eater that she had struck a moment ago was back on his feet. "Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green flash came flying towards her. Her mind had told her body to move, but she froze.

Before she even processed what had happened, her father lay on the ground at her feet. He had stepped in front of her, absorbing the unforgivable curse. She sank to her knees as her father lay there—dead. "DAD!" She screamed, as if to try and wake him up, but the life in his eyes was gone.

"DAD! DAD!" She continued to scream, shaking him.

A hand went on her shoulder and spun her around. "AURORA, GO!" Her mother hollered, pushing her away.

"DAD! DAD!"

Matilda gave Aurora another shove. "RUN! NOW!"

There was not time for tears as she began to run away. Spells continued to fly over her head, striking the ground like lightning. Her mother continued to push her along as they ran away together. Quickly, they reached the forest edge.

Matilda turned, facing their pursuers and raised her wand. "PROTEGO!" She yelled, creating a large shield between herself and the oncoming attacks. "AURORA, RUN!" The shield only held for a few moments before the spells hit them together, and the world turned dark.


	2. A Place for Magic

Chapter Two

**A Place for Magic**

Tucked away within the rugged green hills of the north, Hogwarts castle gleamed brightly in the afternoon sun. The beautiful castle was battle-damaged and scarred from the recent battle with Lord Voldemort, but as the sun finished off its last rays of warm sun for the day, the castle truly was peaceful and serene. It had merely been three days ago that the epic battle was fought here, but now, everything was at peace. Slowly, the transition began to take place as refugees departed from the grounds while members of the Ministry of Magic not loyal to the Dark Lord came to the scene.

It was tonight that the last group of students would be departing from the grounds. Their trunks and bags were packed and waiting at the train station in Hogsmeade. Harry Potter, the boy who lived and who defeated Voldemort once and for all, took off his glasses and wiped the fog off them with his sweater. He glanced over at Ron for a moment who stood quiet and solemn. It had only been yesterday that his brother's funeral had been held at the castle grounds along with the other brave souls who had sacrifices their lives in order to stop Voldemort. Harry turned his gaze back to the castle in the distance. The shadows were growing taller upon the castle as evening fell.

"Potter. Weasley."

The two young men turned around as Professor McGonagall approached with some of the other faculty following behind her, including Hagrid. They nodded in respect to the new Headmistress as she approached.

She placed a hand on each of them and looked up into their eyes, marveling at their growth over the past few years. "Thank you for all you have done. I am proud to call you both Gryffindors."

They nodded.

"I will be delighted at your return next year…"

Harry and Ron exchanged glanced.

"Actually, Professor…" Harry said. "…we're not coming back next year."

"What do you mean, _not coming back_? You have to finish your education. You two didn't complete your 7th year. "

"Kingsly Shacklebolt told us that he will accept anyone into Auror training who fought in the battle against…" He paused for a moment. "…Voldemort," Ron said cautiously, as if saying the name could raise the dark wizard from the dead. "We're going to go to London and begin training in a week."

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips tightly together, clearly communicating that she did not like the idea, but she eventually nodded. "Very well, and I suppose Miss Granger…"

"Hermione's coming back," Ron said. "I suppose she doesn't think she has enough Outstandings yet."

"Ha! Very funny, Ronald!" Hermione walked up behind Harry and Ron. "Yes, Professor, I'll be back in the fall."

"It is good to know that some still take their education into serious consideration," McGonagall said, folding her arms over her chest as Harry and Ron exchanged glances again. "But I suppose I should wish you luck in your come and coming endeavors. If you think earning your N.E.W.T's was a challenge, you shall have to try your hand at the Auror training."

"You…really think its going to be that difficult?" Ron asked.

"Difficult, yes," She said seriously, but a small smile cracked. "But nothing you two cannot persevere through."

Harry and Ron smiled in relief.

"Well, I should not keep you. Goodbye now." She bowed her head to them and continued down the platform.

"Goodbye, Professor," The three chimed together. They only had a moment to themselves until the heard the sniffles and footsteps of a giant man behind them. They turned around to their old, large and hairy friend, Hagrid blowing his nose on a handkerchief. His eyes were puffy and reddened, and his nose was stuffy, making it difficult for him to say hello. The three without words stepped forward and gave the half-giant gamekeeper a large embrace. His large arms wrapped around the three of them, squeezing them tightly—almost hurting them.

"It won't be the same without ya." Hagrid said in-between sniffles.

"We'll miss you too, Hagrid," Hermione said.

Hagrid kept his arm around Hermione. "Well, I have you back, Hermione, but I won't be having Ron er Harry." He looked down at the two boys. "I can't believe yer goin' to the Ministry to be Aurors."

"We hardly can either," Ron said.

"Those Dark wizards and witches will hafta be watchin' themselves with you two on the force." Hagrid blew his nose again. "Won't be no better Aurors than you two lads."

"Thanks Hagrid." Harry nodded.

The train whistle blew shortly followed up by a voice yelling, "All aboard!" The three bid their final hugs and goodbyes to their long-time friend and slowly boarded the train, wishing they had just a few more moments.

"Promise you'll visit once in a while!" Hagrid waved just before they stepped onto the train.

"We will!" Harry said. "And perhaps you will visit us in London?"

"Perhaps it can be 'rranged!" Hagrid continued to wave.

"Goodbye, Hagrid." The three waved as the stepped onto the train. Slowly, they weaved through the line of students towards the aisle. "Let's find a compartment in the back," Ron said, leading the pack. They found an empty compartment and claimed it quickly. They packed away their luggage on the top shelve and underneath the seats before sitting down. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring out the window at all the familiar faces who were staying behind. There was Professor Treelawney, wearing her thick glasses that enlarged her eyes, conversing with Professor Sprout. Professor Flitwick stood waving at some students in his house as they boarded the train. McGonagall stood prim and proper with her elegant features clear in her face, and of course, Hagrid stood wiping the corners of his eyes with the large handkerchief in his hand.

The train slowly began to move, pulling away from the platform. Harry leaned back into the cushioned seat of the Hogwarts Express and stared off into the distance. Hogwarts castle was almost completely covered in darkness—the last few rays of light striking only the tall towers. Hogwarts had been the only true place he ever felt like he belonged, and now he was leaving it behind forever. He sighed gently as he watched the castle start to fade into the distance. Hogwarts was truly a place of magic.

Hagrid continued to sniffle loudly, much to the annoyance of the other professors, but they said nothing as the train rolled away from the platform and soon disappeared out of sight. Professor McGonagall stood tall and proper with her hands folded over her stomach looking at the mountains in the distant horizon, but her head spun quickly around as she heard her name called in the distance.

"Minerva! Minerva! Come quickly!" Madame Pomfrey screamed as she flew up on broomstick down the road. In her hand, she carried another broomstick.

"What is it, Poppy?" McGonagall rushed to her broomside while the other professors followed closely behind.

"Urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic: Your niece and her family..they…they were…attacked."

"Attacked?" The old Professor nearly fainted, falling into Hagrid's large arms. "Matilda? Dear Matilda?" Her emerald green eyes filled with tears as her hand came up to cover her mouth.

Madame Pomfrey nodded, trying to choke down her emotions to relay the message. "Matilda is gone and…and…her…her husband has been found dead."

"Aurora! What about Aurora?" McGonagall reached out, grabbing onto Madame Pomfrey's clothing. "Is she alright!?"

"She…She…was found…knocked out cold…"

"Where?"

"I don't know!" Pomfrey exclaimed. "The letter said something about," She took out a scroll from her pocket and unrolled it. "something about a cabin…"

McGonagall snatched the spare broom out of Pomfrey's hands and immediately straddled it. She said nothing to anyone but immediately took off as fast as possible into the evening sky.

* * *

Diagon Alley did not look the same as it had when Harry stepped into it for the very first time. If it were even possible, the street looked more empty and dark than the last time Harry visited the place over a year ago. Pulling their trunks behind them, their necks cranked upwards at the empty and decaying buildings. They made their way to Weasley Wizarding Weezes. The store, vibrant and full of life, looked out of place in the dismal alley. They stepped inside to find all sorts of enchanted toy airplanes and decorations buzzing around the room, but in the middle of it all, George sat in an old rocking chair slowly rocking back and forth.

As Harry and Ron approached, George gave a small flick of his wand and all the toys and decorations buzzing around the room immediately came to a stop. They fell to the ground in one big clatter, and then there was silence. Harry and Ron exchanged glances as George slowly tucked his wand back into his coat pocket. George stood up from the chair and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "The upstairs storage room is all cleared out. Might still be a boggart or two, but I think it should suit. First door on the left."

"Thanks, George." Ron nodded.

The two grabbed a hold of their trunks and began to drag them to the upstairs. As they approached the stairs, Harry turned back to see George at the cash register. "George?"

George looked up.

Harry shook his head. "Nevermind." He followed behind Ron up the stairs. As soon as they headed a few steps up, Ron turned back to Harry. "I'm worried about him."

Harry nodded. "I don't think there's anything we can do that we haven't already done."

"I suppose you're right." Ron turned forward and continued up the stairs. "I'm just glad we're here."

While Harry and Ron would spend the next three years at Auror training school, they would live with George at the shop in Diagon Alley. The deal was advantageous to everyone—Ron and Harry wouldn't have to find an expensive flat or live at the dormitories of the Ministry of Magic and George would have extra hands around the shop to help with business.

Ron entered the first door on the left as George instructed followed shortly by Harry. The two dropped their heavy trunks on the wooden floor and looked around at the old dusty room. It was mostly empty except for a broken dresser drawer in the corner and scattered pages of the Daily Prophet from years gone by. Harry looked down, noticing one of the papers under his foot. He picked it up and began to read aloud.

_ Murder in Slytherin House January 12 1979_

_Dagomir Stratford, youngest son of Cadfael and Isabella Stratford, was brutally murdered by former members of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on January the ninth. The former students who participated in the murder have chosen to follow He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with many other classmates in Slytherin House. According to sources, Dagomir Stratford was seen arguing with other students early the night of the murder. At the scene of the crime was left a note only signed by the Dark Mark stating, "Those of Slytherin who do not join the cause will be made an example." From what sources can gather from Dagomir's personal belongings, the 7th year student highly opposed the move of Slytherin House to follow He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, leading to his demise. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was deeply grieved over the event and has refused to comment on the situation. Authorities at the Ministry of Magic are still investigating the case further. _

Harry glanced upwards towards the picture of a cold and lifeless face lying in a coffin. A mother stood wiping her tears while the father held his wife in a tight embrace. Three older looking young men stood solemnly in line with their parents next to the coffin.

Ron started down at the picture for a moment. "I suppose the things we're going through were the same things they went through."

Harry nodded. "He was brave."

Ron gave him a questioning look.

"He opposed his entire house to stand up for what he believed."

"Sounds like he should have been a Gryffindor," Ron said.

Harry nodded with a smile while folding up the old piece of paper. He tucked it safely away in his pocket. "Well, shall we get started?"

"I'm game if you are to tag team those boggarts." Ron pulled out his wand. The two of them investigated the room with their wands ready, prepared for whatever might come after them, but the dresser was empty and there was nothing interesting to be found. Instead, they had to reduce themselves to miniscule tasks such as dusting and picking up trash. They worked in silence for a long time trying to make the room livable, but after he finished putting his bed together, Ron sat down. "Do you think I should send Hermione an owl?"

"I don't know," Harry said while bending over to sweep a pile of dust into the dustpan. "She's _your_ girlfriend."

"She's not…technically…my girlfriend," Ron said.

Harry looked up, exasperated. "I thought you two were all over _that_…"

"What?"

"You know, acting like you hate each other when you really don't." Harry stood up straight. "Would you just ask her out already?"

"Why do I need to ask her out?"

"You said it yourself, '_she's not technically my girlfriend._'"

Ron stood up off the bed. "You're right. I should owl her."

"No!" Harry hissed. "You know how girls are! You can't ask her to be your girlfriend in an owl!"

"What do they bloody want then?"

"You know—to be all romantic and stuff."

Ron put his hand over his forehead. "This really is a lot of work—girls, that is."

"Tell me about it," Harry went back to sweeping.

Ron spun around and leaned back against the massive pile of blankets and pillows on his bed. He tucked his hands behind his head and began to think. "Dear Hermione…no…Dearest Hermione…does that sound strange?" He pondered aloud. "No, it's quite fine, really. Dearest Hermione, I miss you like…like…a…seeker misses…no wait…"

"I miss you like…the Chudley Cannons miss winning." Harry teased.

"Shut up!" Ron immediately blurted out then stopped. "Actually, that's not too bad. Not too bad at all."

"I think you're going to have to try a lot harder than _that_ if you want to impress her."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Are you going to help me or not?" Harry looked impatiently at Ron.

"Oh, sorry." Ron got up off his bed and continued to clean.

* * *

She felt as though she nearly had lost everything, and was still about to loose the last thing that mattered to her as she looked down into the hospital bed at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The young girl laid asleep, breathing shallow breaths, as her great aunt waited at her side. Moving back and forth around the bed were healers mixed with reporters and officials from the Ministry of Magic. They constantly debated the situation and liberally took pictures of the girl lying in her bed. McGonagall, who normally would have given these people a piece of her mind, reclined exhausted in a chair next to the bed.

The girl began to stir, grinding her teeth and moaning something incoherent. Her legs slowly shifted back and forth, as if running, while the moaning intensified. "Dad," She moaned softly at first, but her cries for help grew louder.

"She's waking up!" The reporters immediately pulled out their magical cameras and started snapping pictures of the event. "Hurry! Get a Quick-Quotes Quill!"

Professor McGonagall awoke from all the attention. "What in the blazes is going on here?" She snapped, looking around at all the noisy reporters. She noticed her niece having a fit in sleep and sharply turned her attention back to the reporters. "GET OUT! ALL OF YOU! OUT! OUT! OUT!"

A staff member hurried rushed to the scene and inserted herself between McGonagall and the reporters, ushering the reporters and photographers away from the scene. McGonagall then turned to her niece and took the girl's hand as her fit grew worse.

With a loud gasp, Aurora awoke in her hospital bed screaming frantically for her father. Frightened, the girl grabbed onto her aunt and wouldn't let go. From all the commotion, more of the staff came to Aurora's bedside trying to discern what had happened.

"Is the patient alright?" One of the healers asked nervously.

"Aurora?" McGonagall pulled away from the frightened girl's tight grip. The girl was pale and shaking. "They're gone," She whispered just before passing out.

McGonagall looked over at the healers with tears in her eyes. "What can we do?"

"She's suffered massive trauma. We'll try to give her Draught of Peace for the night, and it should help by the morning."

McGonagall nodded as she backed away, but soon her attention was called to the sound of her name echoing throughout the infirmary. She turned, seeing the new Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. In his hands he carried a box of chocolate frogs, a customary gift when seeing a witch or wizard in the hospital. "Minerva," He said again while approaching. He handed her the chocolates and shook her hand.

"Kingsley," She breathed. "What happened? Have you found anything?"

The Minister's face was solemn. He looked up into her tired eyes and sighed deeply. "Nothing. Your family's cabin has been destroyed, the McGonagall Manor has been burned to the ground."

"My niece and her husband? Do you know what happened to them?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Her husband was most certainly attacked with the killing curse. There were no visible signs of trauma. You niece…" He paused. "The team has discovered massive traces of her blood in the area, but we have not found her body. With the amount of blood she's lost, it is not likely…"

McGonagall felt a deep ache in her chest. She stood stunned, feeling hot and heavy tears well up in her eyes. She then threw the box of chocolates to the ground as hard as she could and angrily stomped on them while screaming. Quickly, Kingsley reached out and threw his arms around McGonagall to calm her, but the witch continued to scream as heavily tears began pouring down her old face. "HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?" She screamed. "WHY?" She sobbed into Kingsley's shoulder. "I…I should have been there!"

"Minerva, it was no fault of yours! You did not know what was going to happen to them! You were trying to protect the students at Hogwarts!"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She sobbed harder.

Kingsley's continued to comfort the witch as she exhaustedly cried on his shoulder.

After a few more days of rest, Aurora's condition turned for the better. Her breathing slowed to a calmer pace, and she seemed to sleep peacefully throughout the night. It was on the third days she awoke only to be bombarded with questions from the Ministry of Magic, much to the dismay of her aunt; however, they were soon frustrated with the girl's apparent memory loss about the entire situation.

"Tell us who attacked you." A wizard dressed in red robes asked.

"I've already told you a thousand times. All I remember were a lot of people dressed in black robes. They wore masks. I couldn't see their faces."

The wizard who asked the question sneered at her while glancing over to his comrade with suspicious look. The other wizard dressed in navy blue robes turned to Aurora. "Are you sure there's something you're not hiding from us, little girl?"

"I'm seventeen!" She blurted out angrily. "Are you sure you're not hiding something from_ me_?" She yelled, her voice elevating louder. "Where's my mum! Are you sure you're not hiding _that_?"

"Just what exactly are you accusing the Ministry of Magic of doing?" The blue-robed wizard spat, crushing the paper scroll in his hand.

"That's enough!" The healer nearby hollered, walking over to Aurora's bedside. "The poor darling has just woken up, and you've got the nerve to pester her for two hours with the same questions?" At this, the two officials from the Ministry slowly turned and walked away, but the healer continued to stand there until the men were gone.

"Thank you." Aurora said, leaning back into her pillow.

"Eat some chocolate, darling. You'll need it to regain your strength." The healer placed a small bar of chocolate on Aurora's nightstand. "I want to see that brick gone before I make my second around."

"Yes, ma'am." Aurora said, grudging reaching for the chocolate. She did not feel like eating, but she slowly unwrapped the silver foil of the chocolate and took a bite. She sighed wearily as she chewed. She woke up into a world without her parents, and regrettably, it was a world she wished she never would have woken up to see. From the moment she woke up, she was barraged with people wanting her attention—officers from the Ministry wanting to ask her questions, reporters from the Daily Prophet snapping pictures, healers wanting to check on her health, and of course, the only family she had left in the world wanted to know that she was alright. As she continued to chew, tears welled up in her emerald eyes.

"Good, you're eating chocolate." McGonagall walked up, but before she sat down, she saw the tears rolling down her niece's face. With a saddened sigh, McGonagall sat down and reached out for Aurora's hand. Aurora dropped the chocolate and took her aunt's hand as her tears flowed.

"I can't remember anything…" Aurora said in-between sobs. "There was a man…and dark wizards in black…there was fighting…I…can't…"

"Hush," McGonagall said tenderly, trying to keep herself together at the same time. "It's alright. You don't have to think about this right now."

"I can't even remember his face. All I remember…is his laugh…"

"Aurora, we're going to find who did this. If you were indeed attacked by Death Eaters, many of them have been already captured or killed."

Aurora turned her head sharply towards her aunt. "They can't even find, mum! What makes you think they'll find them?"

McGonagall let out a deep sigh, knowing her niece was right. "Aurora, I…"

The girl saw the hurt in her aunt's eyes. "I'm sorry." She turned her head towards the window and looked out onto the clear and beautiful day. "This is difficult for you too."

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, it is."

Aurora tried to wipe her tears, but they continued to come. She reached over to her nightstand and grabbed a picture with one of the edges burnt. She managed a smile through her tears as she looked down at the picture. It was the day she received her first broomstick. The young girl in the picture with very long dark hair zipped around the backyard of the house, flying in circles around her trapped and frightened father.

McGonagall glanced over at the picture. "Kingsley salvaged that from the manor." She leaned in for a better look, seeing the terrified look on the man's face. "Your father…" McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"I know…" Aurora sniffled. "You've always hated him."

"I…didn't hate him," McGonagall said, remembering that she and her niece's husband always quarreled during their relationship rather than acting like family. Deep regret came over her as she sighed. "I'll always remember that time he stepped in that pixie nest…" McGonagall broke down into tears.

Aurora slightly laughed while bursting into tears at the same time. "Or that time he ate that rotten-egg favored Bertie Bott's bean then ate the toe-nail one on accident to get rid of the taste?"

"And then chugged an entire bottle of Firewhiskey to get rid of_ that_ taste." McGonagall said as small smile came to her face. She nodded as they said and reminisced about Mark McGonagall's mishaps. She remembered the day her niece brought her muggle boyfriend to a Sunday dinner for the first time. Needless to say, the ordeal did not go well with the girl's father threatening to use terrible spells on the boy. However, the boy named Mark Smith left his connections to the Muggle world and became Mark McGonagall.

Minerva had a close relationship with her younger brother's child, Matilda, and thus found herself involved frequently in the lives of her niece and husband. She of course thought of Mark as "all wrong" for her beloved niece, but nevertheless, she had no choice but to accept the union. Professor McGonagall looked back over at Aurora, their daughter. She remembered many years ago getting into a heated debate with Mark about Aurora's education. Minerva, of course, wanted Aurora to attend Hogwarts, but the girl begged to stay home. She had always thought it was because of Mark's influence, but as she watched Aurora mourn for her father, she realized it was because Mark was truly a good father to his daughter, and the girl did not wish to leave home.

McGonagall sighed again as she sat helpless in the chair next to Aurora's bed.

* * *

Hermione was saying at the Burrow her first few days after the battle. She sat at the kitchen table as Molly quietly worked at the stove writing in a notebook. She crossed of the things she had already packed for her journey and circled the one thing she had forgotten—her toothbrush. Now that the conflict was over with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, she felt it was save enough to head to Australia to fetch her parents. Wendell and Monica Wilkins were about to get the shock of their lives when they find out that they are actually Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Hermione's parents. Hermione looked up as Ginny tromped down the stairs. The red-head took a seat at the table next to her friend and looked up at her mother. Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances after examining the solemn state of Molly Weasley. The Burrow, which normally was bursting with life and noise, was eerily quite with so many children and guests gone.

An owl trapping at the door interrupted the silence of the room. Molly reached over for the door handle and let the owl inside. It flew over to Hermione and placed a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand. Hermione reached in the pocket of her jeans for a knut and paid the owl. Ginny leaned over for a look at the paper.

"Look," Ginny giggled, pointing at a picture of a pig chasing a woman around a grassy yard. "Did you hear about that?"

"What?" Molly called from the stove.

"Janus Albright's pig drinking an entire barrel of love potion."

"No," Molly turned away from the stove with a wooden spoon in hand. "What happened?"

Ginny laughed again. "This woman named Janus Albright had a pig that, as I said, ended up accidentally drinking an entire barrel of love potion. Now the pig's in love with her. It won't leave her alone." Ginny started to laugh so hard she couldn't speak. "It keeps chasing her around the yard. The Department of Magical Accidents can't seem to fix the problem. They've been at it for two days."

"Wait!" Hermione said, holding up her hand. "Listen to this!"

_Attack on the McGonagall Family May 12 1998_

_On May 1, the day before the Battle of Hogwarts took place, Matilda G. McGonagall and her husband Mark, who was a Muggle, were believed to be murdered at their residential cabin near Corwen, Wales. The only survivor was their seventeen year old daughter, Aurora McGonagall, who spent five days in the hospital unconscious—suffering from terrible fits and nightmares. The girl has experienced memory loss from recent events and remembers little of the attack except for figures dressed in dark robes wearing masks. The body of Mark McGonagall was found at the scene, appearing to have no sign of trauma, suggesting the use of the killing curse. The body of Matilda McGonagall has yet to be found. Also included in the attack, the historic McGonagall Manor near St. David's, Wales was burned to the ground. Authorities at the Ministry of Magic are working day and night to bring this case to a close. _

Hermione looked up from the small article in the corner of the paper. "Are these people related to Professor McGonagall?"

Molly pondered for a moment. The look that washed over her face told Hermione and Ginny the answer they wanted to know. "Yes," She nodded. "If I'm not mistaken, Matilda McGonagall was Minerva's niece."

"I didn't think she had any family," Ginny said.

"Apparently, she does." Hermione stared grimly at the piece of paper.

Molly stood silent for a moment before speaking to Hermione. "Do you have everything ready to head off to Australia?"

Hermione nodded. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley agreed to accompany Hermione as she used the Floo Network to Australia. Considering it might be difficult for Hermione to find her parents, reverse the spell, and then explain why she put her parents under a spell in the first place, Arthur and Molly suggested they tag along for the journey.

"Ginny, dear, are you packed?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and slowly moved out of her seat to head back upstairs. Hermione only continued to stare down at the small article on the front of the Daily Prophet. The story about Janus Albright and her lovesick pig took more room and attention on the page, but Hermione only found her eyes wandering towards the heartbreaking story of the McGonagall family.

* * *

Everything she had ever known was gone. She stood with one small bag at her side looking high up towards the towers and buttresses of Hogwarts castle. Her great aunt, the only family she had left in this world, came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Professor McGonagall took in a deep breath as she glanced over the castle again, feeling the relief of being home. She glanced down at Aurora's small bag. "Don't worry, darling, we'll get you some new dress robes before the school year starts. I must admit that I'll be excited to have you here at Hogwarts for your last year."

Aurora nodded gently, still processing her surroundings. She had never been to Hogwarts but had only seen its picture in books, newspapers, and from photos her aunt brought home during the summer.

"Poppy, would you show Aurora to Gryffindor Tower?"

The school nursed looked over at McGonagall, surprised. "But Minerva, she hasn't even been sorted. Shouldn't we put her in a guest room?"

"Nonsense!" Professor McGonagall waved her hand. "The McGonagall family has been sorted into Gryffindor as far back as any of us can remember. Why make her move twice when she only needs to move this once?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded her head and motioned for Aurora to follow. Aurora took a deep gulp and followed behind into castle. This place, a place of magic, would be her new home.


	3. The Newest Sensation

Chapter Three

**The Newest Sensation **

Harry awoke to the sound of a quill hurriedly scratching across a piece of parchment. He fluttered his eyes and tilted his head up off his pillow. Ron sat at the desk across their bedroom hunched.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed with a jump. "He quickly covered the parchment he was writing on and laid down the quill. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was" Harry looked around the room. "What time is it?"

Ron looked down at the watch on his wrist, the one his parents gave him. "It's 5:30. Perhaps you should go back to bed?" Ron suggested eagerly.

Harry cast a strange look at Ron for a moment and then laid his head back down on his pillow and closed his eyes. A small smirk crossed his face—Ron wasn't exactly good at hiding things, but it was funny to watch him try.

Ron waited until he thought Harry was not watching then picked up his quill and started writing again. He finished up the last few words he wanted to write, folded up the parchment, and then quietly walked out the room. He headed downstairs towards the shop to borrow one of the delivery owls. He took a deep breath, looking over the parchment one last time, and attached it to the owl's leg. He opened the window and set the owl loose into the morning sky. He yawned after a moment and headed upstairs to go back to bed.

It did not take long for the owl to fly from London to the Burrow in Devon. While the Weasley family sat down for breakfast a few hours later, the owl came tapping at the window. Molly wiped her hands on her apron and left the stove to open the door. Mr. Weasley looked up from his morning paper. "That looks like one of George's owls," He commented causally before turning back to the paper.

Molly took the parchment from the owl and fed the bird a treat before bidding it goodbye. "I do hope Georgie dear is alright," She said, making Ginny giggle. "Oh, it's got Ronny's handwriting on it…" She said at first glanced, but then she stopped.

Ginny and Hermione looked up from their breakfast as Molly's tone of voice changed. She walked over to the girls quietly and looked down at the letter. "Hermione…" She said, quietly. "It's for you."

Mr. Weasley looked up from his paper.

Hermione looked up towards Mrs. Weasley then glanced down at the letter. True enough, the letter was address to her. She reached out and gingerly took the letter from Mrs. Weasley. She stood up from the kitchen table and left the room.

The three Weasleys' looked back and forth between one another as they sat alone in the kitchen. Molly turned back to the stove. "Ginny, perhaps you should see if…"

"I'm on it." Ginny shot up out of her seat and followed Hermione.

"Dear, do you really think snooping…" Mr. Weasley began.

"It's not snooping!" Mrs. Weasley retorted. "I'm just curious as to what Ronnie is up to these days. You know…how he is and all…and of course, Harry too…" She continued to mumble excuses as Mr. Weasley shook his head and turned back to the paper.

Hermione ran up the staircase of the Burrow to the very top bedroom, where she was saying, and opened the door. She closed it behind her with her foot. She sat down on the floor with her back against the bed and slowly opened the letter.

_Dearest Hermione, _

_I must admit that I haven't slept at all tonight, and if this letter sounds a little odd, that would explain it. Honestly, I haven't slept well in a while because there have been a lot of things on my mind. I've been having a lot of trouble after Fred, you know. And of course, Lupin and Tonks. But I've also been having a lot of trouble thinking about, well, about us. That's why I haven't slept much tonight. I can't stop thinking about when we were with Harry, and I mentioned the house-elves, and you, you know, kissed me._

Hermione blushed as her eyes scanned over that part.

_I know that I'm not that brilliant with words, not like you are anyway, and even less brilliant with my actions, again not like you, but I'll try my best to explain everything. The truth, even though I didn't always show it, is that I've always liked you, Hermione. I mean, not just liked you—like a friend or something, but you know, really __liked__ you. But not just liked though—I really care about you, Hermione. Does this make sense? No, it doesn't! I'm sorry! This sounds dumb!_

_What I'm trying to say is that it would drive me mad inside to see you with other guys—like Krum. I couldn't stand it because I wanted you, and if I couldn't have you then I at least wanted someone better—someone good enough for you. I've never thought I was good enough for you. Perhaps that's why I never really tried before. Perhaps that's why I was such a prat sometimes. _

_Look, I'm not making much sense here, but I had to say something. I think so many times I didn't even try so I had to try this time. I'm botching it up badly, but I had to try. Maybe we could talk sometime since I can't seem to write what I want to write. _

_Anyway, Harry and I are doing well in London. Auror classes have been decent so far. George seems to be doing better since we're here. I hope everything goes well with your parents in Australia. I'll be thinking of you. _

_Ron_

Ron's handwriting was messy and almost illegible, the spelling was terrible, and the grammar was awkward, but that only endeared the words more to Hermione. Her heart leapt inside her chest as her fingers trembled over the letter. She pulled it to her heart and gave a deep sigh of contentment.

"Hermione, Mum wants to know if…" Ginny came through the door and found Hermione on the floor next to the bed. Hermione's cheeks immediately flushed hot and red as she quickly tried to tuck the letter away.

Ginny stood in the doorway with her hand still on the knob. "Are you done with breakfast? Mum wants to know if she should clear your plate."

"Yes, yes, I'm done," Hermione said, flustered.

A large smirk appeared on Ginny's face. "And how's Won Won?"

Hermione cracked a smile. "Oh, shut it!" She slowly came up off the floor, tucking the letter into her pocket for safe keeping, and followed Ginny out of the room.

* * *

It was a Friday afternoon as Harry and Ron sat anxiously, waiting for their test results to be handed out. In one of their first classes, Stealth and Tracking, their first test was on identifying the footprints from the photographs printed on the test and giving various details about the print. It wasn't the most exciting material, but it was all part of becoming an Auror.

Ron was handed his paper first and then Harry. The two quickly glanced over their pages before turning to one another.

"84!" Ron said.

"89!" Harry said, cracking a smile at his victory.

Ron glanced down at his paper again. "Would you believe that? I put women's size 9, and he marked it wrong. I was only a ½ size off! "

"Look at this," Harry tilted his paper in Ron's direction. "I thought this was a Kneazle print, but it was just a cat."

"Yeah, me too—I swear that was a trick question."

"At least we passed."

"Right," Ron said just as the teacher took to the front of the classroom.

The Professor cleared his throat and looked over his classroom. "Good work everyone on the test. I was pleased with the results. For Monday read over chapter seven about tracking movements. Have a great weekend," He said hurriedly as the class packed up their things.

Harry and Ron bolted out of class with the other students, feeling the freedom of the weekend. The immediately headed from level two at the Ministry of Magic down to the Atrium on level eight. As usual, the atrium was bustling with people, but it appeared even more so today. Construction of a new monument to replace the _Magic is Might_, a grotesque image of wizards standing upon muggle bodies, statue was already underway. Of course, since it was a Friday, everyone seemed to be in a rush to get home to their families for the weekend. Harry and Ron choose an open wall to stand and wait. It was two days ago that Hermione and the Weasleys transported from the Ministry, via Floo Network, to _The Parliament_, the governing magical body of Australia. They were expected to return that afternoon. And after a few minutes, Hermione with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley behind her emerged from the crowd.

"Harry!" She grasped him in a big hug.

"Did everything go alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, hugging her back.

Hermione stepped back and nodded gently. "I think it will be okay. Mum and Dad are a bit upset, but at the same time, I think they understand. They're a bit shocked though."

Harry nodded. "Understandably."

Hermione glanced over at Ron, and her cheeks flushed bright red. "Hello, Ronald."

Ron kept his eyes to the ground, only bashfully looking up for a couple of moments. "Hello, Hermione."

"Lovely to see you two!" Mrs. Weasley beamed as she walked up with her husband and daughter at her sides. "I swear you've grown, Ronnie!" She reached out for her son, trying to kiss his blushing cheeks.

"Mum, get off!" Ron moaned.

Ginny laughed.

"And Harry!" Mrs. Weasley threw out her arms and took Harry into her tight embrace. "How are you?"

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said, smiling at the tight grasp Mrs. Weasley had on him. "I'm well."

"Hello, boys." Mr. Weasley nodded. "I trust classes are well."

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, they are fine."

"Good to hear." He adjusted the muggle style hat he wore on his head. "Look what I found on our trip." It was a brown and green plaid fedora style hat that clashed badly with Mr. Weasley's red hair. While he wasn't looking, Hermione shook her head, but she stopped once Mr. Weasley glanced back in her direction.

"Oh," Ron exclaimed. "It's nice, dad."

"Thanks, son." He proudly adjusted it again.

"Well, shall we get along, dears?" Mrs. Weasley suggested. "How about we head back to the Burrow, and I'll make us some dinner?"

"I'm game. I've been dying for a home-cooked meal all week," Ron said.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at this. "Then let's head to the fireplaces then." She led the charge through the atrium towards the golden fireplaces, but as they moved through the atrium, the crowd grew thicker and nosier as peoples' attention seemed to be somewhere else besides moving. They were forced to a stop.

A man, who Harry had seen before, but did not know his name led a small pack through the crowd, up onto higher ground in the atrium, upon the steps leading up to the statue in construction. The man was dressed in fine black robes and carried a silver cane. Cameras began flashing wildly.

"That's Alfred Pickcomb."

"Who's that?" Ron asked.

"Head of the Muggle Relations Committee," Mr. Weasley said. "He's pretty high up there, but I don't seem him much."

"What's he doing?" Ginny asked.

Alfred Pickcomb looked rather happy and excited as he put his hands upon the shoulders of a young man. He did not look any older than Harry or Ron, but he had captured the attention of the entire room. As Mr. Pickcomb led him out of the crowd, more cameras flashed brightly and more people shoved their way forward to get a glance at the boy.

Two witches crowded tightly around Harry, pressing against his back, trying to get a better look. They whispered and giggled among themselves as they excitedly bounded up and down. "He's so brave."

Harry found a smirk spreading across his face as he thought the girls were talking about him, but as he turned around, the girls were clearly more interested in the young man standing with Mr. Pickcomb. Harry looked up at the young man. He stood silent as everyone marveled over him. His hair was messy and blonde, and his locks fell into his bright blue eyes as he silently surveyed the crowd.

"He's a descendant of Merlin, you know." A man next to Harry said. Harry looked over at the man, curious about the statement. A woman next to the man nodded her head in agreement. "Last one I hear. He's of pure-blood too."

Harry frowned. Had they learned nothing at the Ministry? But another voice caught his attention.

"He'll be Minister of Magic one day. You just watch."

"He saved all those people!"

"He'll definitely get the Order of Merlin for this."

Harry could not but help hear everything that was being said around him. He looked up at the young man one last time before Mrs. Weasley called for him. She had found a hole in the crowd and led everyone through it. Harry followed, but glanced back, taking one last look.

"Avalon Stratford, this is Layla Kneller of _Charmed _magazine, can you give me an updated report on the recent events of your days at the Ministry?"

Harry could not hear the reply to the question as he moved too far away from the crowd, but he did see a young woman with dark and short burgundy hair ask the boy the question.

"Who's Layla Kneller?" Harry asked, following the Weasleys.

"Reporter—I think, of some sort." Mr. Weasley said.

They quickly left the Ministry through the golden fireplaces and soon found themselves at the Burrow.

"What'd you think that was all about?" Ron asked, immediately after stepping out of the fireplace into the Burrow.

"I don't know. We've been gone for two whole days." Ginny immediately plopped down into one of the armchairs, throwing her legs over the arm. "Shouldn't you two know? You're at the Ministry everyday."

"We've been studying," Ron said. "We've got tests, you know."

"You?" Hermione questioned. "Study?"

Ron sharply turned to her. "Yes, I studied."

"Well then." A smile came to her face as her eyebrows jumped.

Ron looked away bashfully as she teased him.

Mrs. Weasley came in through the fireplace and immediately headed towards the kitchen. "I'll get to work straight away on dinner. Any requests?"

"Pot roast!" Ron yelled.

"Pot roast it is!" She yelled back.

"Where's the_ Prophet?_" Mr. Weasley asked. Ginny pointed it out to him and he grabbed it and headed for his chair in the den. "I'll see what's in here before dinner," He said before walking out of the room.

Hermione glanced outside the window at the beautiful summer evening. "I think I'll take a walk outside before dinner." She moved towards the doorway. "Can you ring the bell for me, Mrs. Weasley?"

Mrs. Weasley looked up from her pots on the stove. "Of course, dearie. Go outside for a walk."

Hermione grasped the handle to the door and opened it, but before she stepped outside, Ron called out to her. "Hermione, wait!" She stopped and turned around. He approached her. "I think I'll come too—if that's alright."

Hermione nodded, looking to her feet. "Of course it's alright, Ron."

Ron nodded back and gingerly stepped outside first. Hermione followed behind him and closed the doorway. Mrs. Weasley watched the two leave the kitchen before she turned to Ginny and Harry standing in the entry between the kitchen and living room.

"Do you two know anything about this?"

"Of course." Ginny smirked. "Isn't it obvious?"

Mrs. Weasley turned back to the stove and started stirring her pot. "How come Ronnie does tell me anything anymore? He used to tell me everything. Now everything's like a big secret…" She continued to pout to herself while Ginny and Harry exchanged glances.

"Up for a game of Wizard's chest?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, and they left the kitchen together.

The sun was beginning to set in the western horizon as they headed out for their walk, and a sight chill came over them as they began to walk down the gravel pathway leading out into the fields. They were silent at first, both pretending to be interested in things along the path, but both would occasionally steal a glance at the other.

"It's getting quite chilly, isn't it?" Hermione crossed her arms over her stomach. "It'll be autumn soon."

"Are you cold?" Ron immediately started taking off the zippered sweatshirt that he borrowed from Harry.

"I'm…" She started to refuse, but Ron had already thrown the sweatshirt around her shoulders. "Thanks."

"Welcome."

They continued on in silence a few more steps. Ron kept his eyes to the ground and kicked at rocks along the way. Hermione took a deep breath and made another attempt at conversation.

"How are Auror classes going?"

"You got my letter, didn't you?" Ron blurted out frantically.

"Yes," Hermione said, taken back.

"Okay, good!"

Hermione waited, expecting him to say something more, but he didn't. "What about it, Ron?"

"What'd you think?" He looked puzzled, confused, and nervous all wrapped up into one package.

"Well," Hermione said in her academic tone. "I believe you said that you wanted to try and explain things to me in person; therefore, this would be the opportune time for that, wouldn't it?"

Ron stopped walking. They were in the middle of the field along the gravel path, far from the Burrow and prying eyes. It was him and her—all alone. He had to take this chance and tell her how he felt.

"Hermione, you know how much I like cauldron cakes, right?"

"Uh, right?" She looked confused.

"But I don't eat them all the time—usually only on Holidays or when Mum sends me a care package or when I buy them at Honeydukes or if Ginny has any around."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Well, you see, cauldron cakes have always been around, but I didn't eat them all the time—even though I like them. I think it's because I'd never appreciated them before." Ron frowned at his own analogy. "Wait! That's not quite right! I don't mean it like that!"

"Then _what _do you mean?"

"Hermione, I…I'm just so terrible with words…I…" He looked her straight in the eye, his breath frantic. "Hermione, I…"

"Yes?" She asked, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Hermione, I love you!" He blurted out with a yell.

Her eyes flew wide open in surprise.

"I'm sorry!" He looked even more frantic. "I…"

She looked up at him thoughtfully for a moment, staring right into his eyes. He could tell by the look on her face that a thousand thoughts were racing through her mind at that moment. She was planning her words carefully.

"I love you too," She said, calmly.

"Really?" His eyes bulged.

She gently nodded her head as a small smile spread across her face. "Really."

He almost began to laugh as waves of relief washed over him. A large smile crept upon his face. "This is great…really great…" He started to look around the grassy fields, excitedly.

Hermione reached up, putting her hand to the side of his face, making him stop looking around. She leaned in and kissed him. The kiss she had given him at Hogwarts was a quick and surprise peck on the lips, but this, was sweet and gentle as they stood alone out in the fields.

She pulled away from him, opening her eyes and almost laughing at the stunned look on his face.

"This is really really great," He said again, dazed.

Hermione laughed.

* * *

Harry and Ron spent the weekend at the Burrow. George came later through the fireplace on Saturday afternoon after finishing up the ledger books for the shop. As the house began to fill, the old excitement that once filled the Burrow started to return. They ate together, played together, and laughed together for the first time in a long while. Slowly, they were discovering how life was continuing, even without their lost loved ones. Despite the fact that the lost souls were still upon their hearts and minds, they managed to find a sense of happiness and peace that weekend.

George usually kept a bandana or hat over his head to hide the large wound on the side of his head, but while he was at home, he felt enough comfort to remove the garment from his head. His right ear was missing from the Battle over Little Whinging, the night the Order escorted Harry Potter from the Dursley's house for good. He came trotting down the steps to the smell of a warm Sunday dinner and the sounds of the Celestina Warbeck over the Wizard radio. George started sitting along to the Puddlemere United theme sound. "Beat back those Bludgers, boys…"

Harry, who was sitting on the floor at the coffee table, looked up as George barreled down the stairs. "How's Puddlemere doing these days? I haven't been able to check."

George stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pondered for a moment. "I don't know." He looked towards his father, who was reading a Muggle book about Australia. "Dad, where's the _Prophet?_"

Mr. Weasley didn't look up from his book. "I think it's on the table with the other mail."

"Dinner's ready!" Mrs. Weasley chimed, ringing her bell immediately after hollering to her family. The family stopped what they were doing and marched into the kitchen for dinner. The table was already set, and Mrs. Weasley started moving the food over to the table with her wand.

"I'm starving!" Ron trotted down the stairs.

"You're always starving." Ginny took a seat at the table next to Hermione. Hermione was already at the table reading a book, but she tucked it away once everyone sat down for dinner. Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley took their seats, but George scowered the kitchen looking for the mail.

"Mum, where'd you put the mail?"

"On the…" She looked at her husband. "What do you call that piece of junk?"

"It's not junk! It's a micro-cave."

"Microwave," Hermione corrected him politely.

"Yes, right, _mi-cro-wave_!" He enunciated. "It really cooks food. That's how the Muggles do it."

"I can't believe you drug that thing home from work…" Mrs. Weasley started to mumble under her breath. George turned to the strange box and saw the mail resting a top of it. He grabbed the pile and headed back over to the table.

"Junk mail…junk mail…"

"What kind of junk mail?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"It's nothing—just something about _The Official Gilderoy Lockhart Fan Club._"

Mrs. Weasley immediately reached over and snatched the letter out of George's hand before he could open it.

"Okay," He said, continuing to sort through the mail. "Ginny—here." He handed her a magazine. She reached out and took the brightly colored magazine. As it crossed over the table, Harry looked over at the shiny cover curiously. "What's that?"

"_Charmed_ magazine," Ginny said, causally. "I really should cancel my subscription—too much drama and teen angst..." She turned the magazine over to the front cover, and her eyebrows jumped. She flashed it over to Hermione, and they both tore open the magazine to look inside.

Mrs. Weasley dried her hand on her apron and took a seat at the table. "Well, now, are you ready to eat?"

"I've_ been_ ready!" Ron exclaimed, attacking the ham with his fork. His mother took the liberty of loading his plate with vegetables while he started stuffing his face with rolls

The family was enjoying a peaceful and quite dinner except for the two girls that huddled together, giggling over the magazine Ginny got in the mail. At first, they tried to ignore it, but after hearing odd little whispers and giggles, they couldn't help but notice the unusual behavior coming from the other end of the table.

"He's so cute," Ginny whispered.

"I know," Hermione giggled back, quietly.

"What are you doing with that magazine at the table?" Mrs. Weasley put her knife and fork down. "We're trying to have a nice family dinner here…"

Ginny held up the magazine, showing her mother the cover. "Avalon Stratford."

"Oh, he's been all over the news lately," Mrs. Weasley commented. All weekend, the young boy that they had seen while leaving the Ministry was plastered all over the front pages of the Daily Prophet, conversed about over the radio, and mentioned in every wizard household. "Handsome chap, that Avalon is," She said, with a small girlish smile.

"What's he doing in _Charmed_ magazine?" George asked, suspicious.

"They did an interview on him," Hermione spoke up.

"And a full picture spread," Ginny said. Ginny turned the pages. Hermione and Ginny looked through the pictures intently while continuing to giggle quietly.

Ron's eyebrows hunched as he watched Hermione's fascination and attraction with this new wizard.

"Well, what's this interview got to say?" Harry spoke up, feeling much of the same resentment as Ron.

Ginny turned to the article and began reading it aloud to everyone at the table:

_**Avalon Stratford—a Hero of Our Times by Layla Kneller**_

_**First of all, Mr. Stratford, what you have to say for heroic events over the past year during the Second Wizarding War with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?**_

_Well, Layla, I know most people would have run away from danger, but I am no such wizard. Being a descendant of Merlin and all, I have been endowed with the strength and courage that few even dare to dream about having. Who else was going to protect those poor and helpless little Muggles? I knew only I could save them. _

_**Many people were afraid in those terrible events; did you find yourself afraid at any moment?**_

_No—absolutely not. I am more than adequate to deal with any situation that comes my way. In fact, I think it was the Death Eaters who were lucky that I was charged with protecting the poor Muggles. Otherwise, I personally would have hunted them down and brought them to justice._

_**What do you feel like is your greatest strength and also greatest weakness as a wizard coming of age? In what ways shall the Wizarding community come to depend on your talents in the future?**_

_I have many strengths—intelligence, charm, strength, agility—almost too many to list, but I'll have the good people of the Ministry to know that I will use everyone of those strengths to protect all Wizards and Witches of our great country. The Minister of the Muggle Relations has taken me under his wing, and who knows what may happen in the future with the Ministry and I?_

_**Some are saying that you're a likely candidate for Minister of Magic one day—concerning your great Wizarding heritage and courageous valor. In fact, rumor has been circling around that you'll be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in order to bring safety and stability to the school. It sounds like a career to becoming Minister of Magic is well on the way for you, Mr. Stratford. Can you comment on these things? **_

_I had not been aware that people have been calling for me to become Minister of Magic at a future date, but I am not opposed to the idea. I am sure people want to feel they have a strong leader in charge, and I can surely provide that for them. I am of course, the descendant of the great wizard Merlin, and I can bring to the position the strength of that heritage and power. It is also true that I will be attending Hogwarts this fall to complete my education and earn my N.E.W.T's. Talks are in still in progress, once I suppose the new Headmaster understands the situation, that I shall be appointed as Head Boy at the school. This should ensure safety as I commit myself to the protection of the institution. _

_**And Mr. Stratford, for your personal side, tell me and the readers what some of your favorite pastimes are.**_

_Well, Layla, I must confess that I am an avid fan of Quidditch. I'm a Chaser—that is. I've been a fan of Puddlemere United for quite sometime now. _

_**And for our female readers, tell us, Avalon, is there a special someone in your life?**_

_I can't say that there is—although a lot of girls want that position. I suppose I should just start taking numbers. I've got a lot to choose from. She's got to be pretty, and I don't like girls that talk a lot either. _

_**Well, thank you Mr. Stratford for your interview and we look forward to seeing the bright future that's in store for you. **_

_No—thank you, Miss Kneller. _

Everyone sat bewildered after listening to the article. George blinked for a moment, trying to regain his thoughts. "He sounds like a bloody prat!"

"George!" Mrs. Weasley hissed. "We do not use language like that in the house!"

"Mum, the guy's a complete git!" Ron defended his brother. "Harry's done a lot more than that bloke, but his stupid picture is in the paper!"

Harry looked over at Ron as his friend verbalized his own innermost feelings. Harry, after all, had defeated Voldemort and saved the Wizarding world, but he was like old news compared to this arrogant snob in _Charmed _magazine.

"Oh, it's just because he's a pretty boy," Ginny balked.

"I'm not pretty?" Harry questioned.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean it like that..."

"I think that's enough about Avalon Stratford," Mr. Weasley said loudly, clearing his throat before hand. "The radio won't talk about anything else either—we don't need to be talking about it at the dinner table."

Mr. Weasley had averted an argument. Ginny put down the magazine, and everyone returned to eating dinner that Sunday afternoon.


	4. Hiring at Hogwarts

Chapter Four

**Hiring at Hogwarts**

For the last few days, Howler after Howler came across Minerva McGonagall's desk, shaking the castle to its foundations with screeching shrieks of sadness and resilient roars of rage. Furious parents, affiliates of the Ministry of Magic, and anyone else who thought it was their business sent Howlers, Hate-Owls, and other horrid things to the new Headmaster. Not only were parents and concerned members of the public sending angry letters to her, but the wizards and witches that she called upon to teach at Hogwarts also had a few choice words to sent back to the Headmaster.

McGonagall sighed, opening her last Howler for the morning.

"HOW DARE YOU EVEN ASK ME TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HAPPENED TO CHARITY BURBAGE LAST YEAR? YOU CANNOT GUARENTEE MY SAFETY NOR ANYONE ELSES IN THAT SCHOOL! YOU OUGHT TO SHUT THE PLACE DOWN! Oh, and by the way, if you haven't figured it out, MY ANSWER IS NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The Headmistress picked up her quill and scratched off another name. She had three positions to fill—Muggle Studies, Transfiguration, and the ever feared Defense Against the Dark Arts. And of course, she had to find a new Head of House for Gryffindor. Thus far, the search was not going well. Most of her colleagues in the Wizarding world either completely ignored her requests and stopped speaking to her in public, or they decided to send a Howler to verbalize their feelings.

A knock came to the door. Frazzled, McGonagall looked up. "Come in," She said crisply.

The door slowly opened, and Horace Slughorn peeked into the room. "Minerva, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time…"

"This is a very awful time…"

He came out from behind the door and stepped into the room. "Minerva, I was thinking about my age recently, and as we all know, I am getting on a bit in years. I've seen a lot of fine students pass through here…"

"Get to the point, Horace," She said firmly.

He was shocked with her abruptness, but he recomposed himself by clearing his throat and adjusting his robes. "I think it would behoove us all, and especially the students, if a teaching assistant was hired in the Potions division." He got a dreamy look in his eye. "Someone to come along side me and learn the fine art of Potion-making…"

"And grade your papers?"

"And grade my papers…" He continued nostalgically then shook his head to snap out of it. "Well, not just that. I'm getting on in years, and I should really think about retiring soon. You know, I only came back to Hogwarts because our dear late Dumbledore asked me too."

McGonagall sighed. "Horace, I just don't know if something like that can be arranged on such short notice…"

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Minerva!" Horace waved his hand. "Now, I must be off! I'm brewing a sleeping potion, and you don't want to let it cool too long…" He hurriedly left the office.

McGonagall groaned, putting her head in her hands for a moment. She spent a moment recomposing herself then she picked up her quill and scribbled down another position she need to fill for the school year.

High up in Gryffindor Tower, the young witch sat on her bed pondering over many things. The room was empty and bare; six beds lined along the wall in a circle much like the boys dormitory. She knew this fact because her curiosity prompted her to investigate the other dormitory within the tower. But she wondered if this place that she was investigating and discovering would be her true home within Hogwarts Castle. Everyone, and she did mean _everyone_, that she ever knew of in her family belonged to Gryffindor: Her mother Matilda, her grandfather Lucian, her great aunt Minerva, her great grandfather Amandus, her great-grandmother Julia and the list went on throughout the centuries. She had been told the stories of Hogwarts—when one arrives, they are sorted by an ancient and mysterious hat. What if this hat decided she belonged somewhere else—to Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw, or perhaps even Slytherin? What would her Aunt say? What would her belated mother think? What would her entire family think? She imagined the family portraits laughing and insulting her, but those, along with all the other McGonagall had been destroyed in the destruction of the Manor.

As these thoughts raced through her mind, she held her dark wand in her hands. It was smooth and worn—ancient and mysterious—but still etched into the wood were strange letters engraved into the guard of the handle that separated the wand shaft from the handle:

**η αγαπη εστιν η δυναμις και η δυναμις εστιν η αγαπη**

('e agapē estin 'e dunamis kai 'e dunamis estin 'e agapē)

She was given this wand because she was supposed to be great, but she could not stop her father from dying. The sudden urge to snap the thing in half came over her. If it weren't for magic, there would be no conflict between Muggles and Wizards; there would just be people, and then maybe, her father wouldn't have died. But knowing better, she set the wand aside putting her head into her hands.

* * *

There weren't many candidates who showed up for Professor McGonagall's appeal for teaching positions, but those who did turn up, where in a gentle way of putting it—strange. Minerva thought that over the course of her old and long life that she had seen many strange and miraculous things, but today, she met some of the oddest and strangest people she had ever met. There was the guy who dared to drain his earwax during the interview and a most peculiar woman, who at first glance seemed cute and sweet, but as the interview began, this was not the case. She tutored Professor McGonagall in the ancient methods of torture devices and insisted that the Wizarding education system failed students by not implementing these devices in punishment. Another had a vocabulary of about three to five words while another came for the free butterbeer and pumpkin pasties offered to the guests.

With a great sigh, Minerva stood up from her desk and headed to the door. Still, there weren't any candidates to fill any of the positions she needed—let alone getting an assistant for Slughorn. She looked out of the office. "Poppy, set the next one in, please."

Madame Pomfrey managed the waiting line outside the Headmaster's office, serving refreshments. She grabbed the next portfolio and handed it to Minerva. "Archimedes Ninox," Madame Pomfrey called out.

Minerva's head shot straight up. This was one of the names she had called upon, hoping for a response, but never expected him to answer. She had read his brilliant articles in Transfiguration Today and always admired the insights he had in the field.

A tall and thinly man shot up off the bench. His long blue robes, decorated with white stars, swished around his skinny ankles as he rose. He straightened his pointed blue hat and marched forward, stomping on the ground with his pointed elf boots. McGonagall headed into her office and took her seat at the Headmaster's desk while the man followed and angrily plopped down in the chair across from her.

His beady little eyes stared her down as his thick white eyebrows hunched over those tiny eyes. His long white beard, rivaling that of the former headmaster, fell onto the desk as he hunched over. His blue hat, covered in white stars, flopped over again. He was extremely thin, McGonagall noticed, as he rudely reached out and snatched her tin of biscuits off her desk and savagely tore into them.

"So Mr. Ninox, I must admit that I am surprised and honestly…" She stopped as she watched him pick through the biscuits, throwing the ones back into the tin he didn't deem worthy of eating. "…and honestly, I'm flattered…"

"Tell me, what kind of students does Hogwarts have these days? I hope not the dimwits that were here when I was in school."

"Well, I believe that all of our students show great potential…"

"Dimwits, eh?" He said, finally choosing a cookie. "And how many classes will I have to teach to these dimwits?"

"Mr. Ninox, please, can we dispense with the insults? We will get no where with name-calling and debasing…"

The old man slowly reached out, placing the tin back onto the desk. He slowly chewed the piece of biscuit in his mouth, keeping his eyes locked with hers the whole time. "I say 'dimwits' because that's all I see in these youngsters these days—and by youngsters, I mean a lot of people because frankly, I'm older than dirt—and what I see from these dimwits is a lot of whining and backtalk. "_It's too hard_! I _don't want to work for this_!" Magic is about trial and error—exploring and learning. If they aren't that—then they're nothing!" He leaned back in his seat. "Me, personally—I think we need to send all those whiner kids back home crying to their mums. But that's me you know," He said. "Blast it all, this biscuit is burnt on the bottom!"

He was rude, slightly obnoxious, and incredibility strange, but the man was right. Besides, he was a brilliant transfigurist. Normally she would not take such a risk, but something inside of her aroused her curiosity. "When can you start, Mr. Ninox?"

"Whenever you start paying me," He said bluntly.

Later that day, a young woman came into the office. She was thinly and pale. Her long, straight dark hair framed her face, and her black eyeliner drew attention to her dark eyes. She slowly shifted her feet through the Headmaster's office and took a seat. She did not say anything, but stared at McGonagall emotionless.

"So, uh, your name is Miranda Mirkwood?"

She only nodded.

"Right," McGonagall nodded back, quickly moving her eyes downwards to the woman's portfolio. "I see that you have earned quite a few O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s during your time here at Hogwarts." McGonagall looked up, only to see the woman nod. She had remembered this woman as a student about ten years ago at Hogwarts. "You were in Slytherin House, correct?"

She nodded.

"Right," McGonagall looked away again. "You've been working at LeFay Potion Brewery for the past seven years? What made you decide to apply here at Hogwarts?"

"There was an accident."

McGonagall looked up. "What kind of accident?"

"It blew up."

"Oh, yes. I remember reading that in the _Prophet_ now." McGonagall looked back towards the papers. "What makes you desire to teach, Miss Mirkwood?"

"I like potions."

"And what makes you desire to work with students? And also, what abilities to you have to bring to the classroom for the students?"

"I hate everyone equally."

"Good to know," McGonagall bit her lip.

"I'll teach what I know, and I know potions."

"Yes, your recommendations and resume make that very clear. Is there anything else that you can tell me about yourself?"

"I write poetry."

"Oh, you write poetry?" McGonagall's interest perked. "Perhaps you could site a piece of yours? I know that there are many students who would enjoy a poetry reading or even having a poetry club."

The young woman sat up straighter than she already was and closed her dark eyes. She gently cleared her throat and waited for the muse to move her. McGonagall stared at her for a few moments until her head jerked to the left:

"_Everybody dies, _

_This is what happens,_

_Whether by accident or chance,_

_Whether by fate or circumstance,_

_Laid to rest below, _

_Is what life will bestow,_

_This is what happens,_

_Everybody dies."_

"Well, that's…ahem…lovely." McGonagall quickly looked back down to her paperwork. "Tell me, Miss Mirkwood…" The muse continued to move in the young woman.

_"A potion I brew with all my heart and soul,_

_Wolfsbane, kumquat, rat's tail, and coal,_

_These are the ingredients in my cauldron, _

_Mix them well and heat them true, _

_Let me tell you, there is power in this brew,_

_Let us drink and grow strong and wise,_

_This potion I brewed with all my heart and soul."_

The woman opened her eyes and looked straight at Professor McGonagall. Silence fell between them as a stunned looked washed over McGonagall's face. "Well, I believe that you have all the qualifications to assist Professor Slughorn in his teaching and research. When can you start, Miss Mirkwood?" It was true—she did possess all the credentials for the position, despite her strangeness.

Miranda Mirkwood pondered thoughtfully for a moment before she answered. "I can start tomorrow. I promised I'd look for Victor in the accident tonight."

"What? Who's Victor?"

"Well, I promised I'd look for what's left of him," She said causally.

"Oh, right. The accident." McGonagall looked away.

* * *

The next day proved to be more difficult. Two positions had been filled—Transfiguration and a Potions assistant, but two more positioned remained. These, Minerva deemed, would be the most difficult to fill—Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Everyone in the Wizarding world had heard about the tragic death of Charity Burbage at the hands of Voldemort; therefore, none wanted anything to do with_ that_ position at Hogwarts. Likewise, the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts was still believed to be cursed. One would either wind up sacked, at very best, or dead.

"Phaedrus Fickle," Madame Pomfrey called out.

A short and chubby man shot up from his seat, slopping his butterbeer in the process over his robes and those sitting next to him. He apologized profusely while continuing to spill the drink in other places. He rushed up to Madame Pomfrey and held out his hand with a big smile. "Phaedrus Fickle at your service!"

Madame Pomfrey gently grasped his sticky hand covered in butterbeer. "And what position will you be interviewing for, Mr. Fickle?"

"Muggle Studies, my lady."

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. None thus far had interviewed for _that _position. "Alright, Mr. Fickle, come this way." She led him into the Headmaster's office where McGonagall scribbled something down with a quill before looking up.

"Professor, this is Mr. Phaedrus Fickle. He is here to interview for the position in Muggle Studies."

"Really," McGonagall answered, surprised, setting her quill down. She arose from her seat and motioned for Mr. Fickle to sit down. "Please, sit."

"Why, thank…" He tripped over his own two feet while heading over to the chair and landed face first. He quickly scrambled up into the chair, messing up his fluffy brown hair.

"Are you alright, Mr. Fickle?"

"Oh, yes, quite fine!" He chuckled happily.

McGonagall looked down to her paperwork, already finding this individual to be a bit scatterbrained. "I see you graduated from Hogwarts."

"That's right—I was in Hufflepuff."

McGonagall nodded. "Good. Good." She looked up. "What previous experience have you had in Muggle Studies, Mr. Fickle?"

"I can spell the word _Muggle_," He chuckled.

McGonagall did not look amused.

"Well, um," He nervously adjusted his robes. "I had a Muggle born father so I learned a lot from him, and I worked with the Muggle Excuse committee for a number of years…"

McGonagall nodded. "Anything else?"

"I like to dress like a Muggle on the weekends…" He said with a smile and a chuckle, but quickly frowned after seeing McGonagall's displeasure.

Professor McGonagall took off her glasses and looked straight at him. "Mr. Fickle, are you aware of what happened to our last Professor of Muggle Studies?"

The man, who was goofy and bubbly, took a more serious tone. He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I am aware."

"And then you must understand the seriousness involved with this position?"

"Yes," He nodded.

"There will be those that still oppose our philosophy towards Wizard and Muggle relations. During this time of rebuilding, we need someone strong to campaign for equality…"

Mr. Fickle nodded. "Yes, I would give my life to such a cause," The man said, in a stroke of seriousness. "I believe with all my heart that Muggles and Wizards can find peace and common ground in this world."

"Good," McGonagall nodded, her facial features softening.

A girlish scream escaped Mr. Fickle's mouth as in that moment he leaned back too far in his chair and collapsed to the floor.

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "When can you start, Mr. Fickle?"

He crawled up, peeking over the desk. "Whenever you desire, Madame."

"Minerva!" A gasp came from the doorway. "You must know…" A deeper gasp emerged from the strangely dressed woman who rushed into the office. "…what I have seen!" She gasped again.

"What is it, Sybill?" McGonagall asked. "Who's going to die?"

Sybill wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Nobody. I was just going to tell you what I saw—they're having a 50% off sale at Madam Malkin's. I saw it in the _Prophet_."

"That's very nice, Sybill, but I hardly think this is the time…"

"What beautiful eyes!" Mr. Fickle rose to his feet and bowed deeply. "And pray tell, what is your name young lady?"

Professor Trelawney stood dumbfounded for a moment as her glasses magnified her eyes before him. She gave him a slightly curtsey. "Sybill—Sybill Trelawney."

"What a beautiful name!" He exclaimed.

She giggled shyly and glanced away, hiding her eyes behind her bushy locks of hair. "Thank you."

"And how do you serve at Hogwarts?"

"I'm a seer…last of a noble line…"

"Oh, that's wonderful. A seer!" He said in complete awe.

"What is your name, sir?"

"I'm Phaedrus Fickle." He extended his chubby little hand.

McGonagall glanced back and forth between the two, looking rather disgusted. They continued in conversation, but McGonagall loudly cleared her throat.

"Oh, right," Mr. Fickle giggled. "Perhaps we shall meet again, fair lady?"

"Perhaps it will be in the stars, Mr. Fickle." She said, her cheeks blushing wildly. Mr. Fickle turned around and exited the office only after giving one last glance and wave to Trelawney before leaving.

Sybill put her hand down after she finished waving. "Oh, he seems _quite_ nice." She said, continuing to blush.

"Hmmm, yes," McGonagall muttered, scribbling something down in her notes.

"It's really too bad…" She sighed.

"What?" McGonagall asked.

"I sense that he might die soon."

Minerva rolled her eyes.

Besides trying to hire new Professors, there was a mountain of other paperwork to be finished. After her morning interview, she spent all morning trying to catch up on the rest of her work. Nobody else came for interviews, and even though she desperately needed a teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, she at least was given a break from all the strange characters that had been coming into her office for the past few days. About mid-afternoon, a well-dressed man came into the office, charging ahead of Madame Pomfrey.

McGonagall looked up at the man, annoyed with the interruption. Madame Pomfrey came running in, huffing and puffing. "Headmaster, Mr. Alfred Pickcomb to see you."

McGonagall nodded. "Thank you, Poppy." She looked to the man and motioned for him to take a seat.

"I needn't be long, McGonagall…" He said, adjusting the black glove on his right hand. "…I trust you…"

"Headmistress McGonagall," She said, primly.

He glanced away from his glove over to her. "Yes, right. Anyway, I'm sure you've heard of the news already, and merely coming here is a formality…"

"What news?" She asked.

"Why Avalon Stratford, of course!" He said surprised. "He is to be appointed Head Boy…well, that is after we take care of the formalities…"

"You mean, you decided to make him Head Boy without my knowledge or consent, and now you expect me to make it official?" Her eyes narrowed. "You see, I read all about it in the _Prophet_."

Mr. Pickcomb tugged at the collar of his robes. "Well, as a manner of speaking…"

"No." Minerva picked up her quill and started writing again. She had thought about the position a number of times, but had not arrived at a decision yet. It seemed to her that Head Girl was an obvious choice, but the position of Head Boy she did not know whom she would choose just yet.

"Look at his file, Minerva! The boy is gifted!"

McGonagall continued to ignore him.

"He could be Minister of Magic one day! He has the potential to be great—greater than even Alb…"

McGonagall's fierce green eyes darted upwards.

Mr. Pickcomb bit his lip and took a moment to recompose himself. "Just look at the file. The boy saved all those people. Shouldn't we honor him for that?"

Minerva, looking extremely annoyed, put her quill down and reached for her wand. She gave it a hard swish, opening a drawer across the room. A scroll flew out of the drawer into McGonagall's hands. She removed the clay seal and started reading.

The boy did have a lot of O.W.L.'s. She sighed deeply. "Alright."

"Glad to hear it, Minerva! You won't regret this!" After getting what he wanted, Mr. Pickcomb left the room.

Minerva put her hands over her face and took a deep breath, feeling the stress weigh heavily upon her shoulders. She sat in silence for a few moments, trying to recompose herself.

"Headmistress, someone is here to see you…"

"Not now, Poppy…"

"You don't want to see your old friend, Minerva?" A thick German accent came through the man's voice.

McGonagall looked up. "Leopold? Leopold Pascal? Is that really you?" She stood up out of her chair. Standing before her was a middle-aged man wearing a roughed up leather jacket and a messenger bag at his side. "I thought you were in Tibet."

"I was," He said, his accent still thick. "But I heard you've been needed some help around here."

She stepped out from behind her desk and warmly greeted her old acquaintance with a handshake. She motioned him to sit down, and he took a seat in front of the desk.

"You're quite right in the fact that I need help here." She glanced over at Dumbledore's picture on the wall. He was sound asleep. "Can you teach?"

"I will try my very best," He said with a nod.

"I need someone who can teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. And I also need someone who can supervise Gryffindor House…"

"But I did not attend Hogwarts…"

"I know," She said. "But you're all I can count on, Leopold."

He nodded. "Then I will do it."

McGonagall leaned back in her chair. "Tell me what you've been up the last few years, you adventurer!"

Even though his accent was thickly German, his English was clear and understandable. The man, with graying blonde hair, made himself comfortable and proceeded to tell his old mentor about his adventures across the world.


	5. The Sorting Hat is Stumped

Chapter Five

**The Sorting Hat is Stumped**

Already it felt like the beginning of fall as the cool, crisp air whistled through the streets of London. It was gently raining on that overcast day. People took refuge from the weather in the underground subway systems and train stations. Once again, they had made that journey to platform 9 ¾ that cold Sunday afternoon. While at times like this, when everyone was trying to board the Hogwarts Express, the platform was noisy and crowded, but today, it was noticeably louder and more crowded that usual. Hermione and Ginny, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, met up with Harry, George, and Ron at the train station and headed through the brick wall unto the platform. As they approached the blazing red train, they looked around for the source of commotion. It was Ron who spotted it first.

"Oh," He said, bitterly. "Him."

They looked forward, as flashes nearly blinded their sight, to a blonde haired boy standing amidst the crowd. With him, a thin and pale looking woman stood next to him—her long blonde hair flowing neatly down her back. People crowded around them for their attention and cameras flashed wildly as the young man handed over his luggage to be packed. Harry noticed what seemed like an owl cage atop the luggage, but inside was a smaller bird, like a hawk or something. He squinted his eyes to try and see it better, but someone moved in his way.

"I can't believe they made that prat Head Boy! He's never even been to Hogwarts before!" Ron said. "What was McGonagall thinking?"

"Perhaps if you'd have stayed at Hogwarts, you'd have been made Head Boy," Mrs. Weasley said, fiddling with Ginny's trunk.

Ron folded his arms over his chest. "You'll have to tell me how much of a git he is, Hermione."

"Why would I do that?"

"Cause you're Head Girl. You'll probably have to cope with his big arrogant…"

"Oh, Ronald…" She rolled her eyes, trying to get her own things in order. "You needn't have to worry about it."

"Don't worry, Ronnie," George slapped his brother on the back. "_Hermy_ will watch him for you!"

"Quite, George!" Hermione snapped.

Harry continued to look over at the young man, but he turned his attention away as Ginny walked past him. He gave her a small smile and motioned to help her with her trunk. She accepted, and together they carried the trunk away.

Alfred Pickcomb, the Minister of Muggle Relations, addressed the crowd as he stood close to Avalon Stratford and his mother. "I'm sure as all of you know, this young hero of ours, Mr. Stratford, will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Parents, you can feel safe and secure that such a fine example will be stationed to protect your younger children from harm." The crowd applauded and took pictures of the young man and his mother. Mr. Pickcomb excused himself from the crowd, on urgent business, leaving the young man alone for the first time that day. The young man took his mother by the wrist and led her away from the crowd. People watched, continued to applaud, and even reached out to touch him, but he quickly broke away from them and turned around the corner.

"Finally," He breathed, pulling his mother away from the crowd. "We're alone."

A graceful smile came to her face as she looked at her son. "Yes, it is a bit distracting, isn't it sometimes?" She forcefully coughed.

"Mum!" His hands came around her. "Are you alright?"

She placed a hand over her chest as she winced in pain. She slowly nodded her head. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"Mum, you're not alright. You really shouldn't have come."

"I'll be fine," She insisted, softly by firmly. "I couldn't miss this day—you going off to Hogwarts for the first time."

"I'm only going because you're ill," He said, darkly. "Otherwise we'd be at home, and you'd be teaching me."

"Yes, but…" She let out a small gasp as her chest started to ache again. "…this still is a wonderful moment."

He did not look convinced. "It doesn't make sense. I've been made a Head Boy, but I haven't even been sorted yet."

The woman put her hand on her son's shoulder. "I know. That's all Mr. Pickcomb's doing, but that has nothing do to with you. Study hard, and make your father and I proud." Sadness washed over the boy's face, and she immediately knew why. "Your father would be very proud of you…."

"If he were alive, you mean…" Avalon trailed off.

"Yes, that is what I mean…" she sighed. "…but truly he would be."

Avalon glanced away for a moment just as the whistle of the train blew. He looked back to his mother. "I suppose I should be going."

She nodded. "I suppose it is too much to request a hug from my son who is of age now…" She stopped speaking as she was met in his embrace. "I love you, Avalon."

"Love you too, Mum."

She leaned forward and kissed him upon the forehead. Afterward, she stepped and took a deep long look at her son. "Send me Mercury tonight when you get a chance. I should like to know in which house you are placed."

He nodded. "I will," He said, starting to walk away.

She turned and watched her son walk away. He quickly boarded the train and waved to her before disappearing. As she waved back, she felt a rumble in her chest and began to cough violently.

* * *

The train had not traveled very far when Avalon felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was in a compartment by himself as the train pulled out of King's Cross Station and left the city. It was as they passed through the open countryside of the outskirts of the city that he became a bit sleepy. He leaned back in the push seat and closed his eyes, relishing the quiet. He was only like this for a few minutes until the door slid open gingerly. He opened one eye and glanced over towards the door.

"Sorry," A small voice squeaked. "We didn't mean to disturb you."

Avalon sat up. "What's wrong?"

Four small children, first years, stood in the doorway of the compartment, looking frightened and scared. "We're just looking for a seat."

Avalon motioned his hand to the empty seats in his compartments. The students gingerly came into the compartment and took seats. The three behind the first boy sat across from him while the boy who had spoke took a seat next to Avalon. They immediately appeared more relaxed and relieved after sitting down.

"What are your names?"

"I'm Hector Johnson," The boy next to Avalon excitedly spoke up. "He pointed to the boy closest to the door on the other side. "That's Oliver Perkins. He's my best mate."

Two girls sat next to Oliver. The one of the middle shyly looked up at Avalon. "I'm Amanda…Amanda York." The girl by the window waited her turn. "My name is Polly Drubel."

"We're all first years," Hector said.

Avalon nodded. "Me too."

"What?" They all cast a strange look.

Oliver's mouth fell open as he looked over Avalon "Are you like some giant eleven year old or something?"

Avalon released a hearty laugh. "No, I'm seventeen." He watched as their bewilderment started to disappear. "I used to be home schooled by my mum until this year."

"So you'll be sorted like us then?" Polly spoke up.

Avalon nodded. "That's right."

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Hector asked.

Avalon shrugged. "I don't know."

"Yeah, me neither." Hector said, copying Avalon with a shrug. "Maybe I'll be in Ravenclaw—or maybe Hufflepuff—or maybe even Gryffindor!" He puffed out his chest and flexed his arm muscles. "Where the brave of heart dwell!"

"What about Slytherin?" Polly spoke up.

Hector wrinkled his nose. "Slytherin? Who'd want to be in Slytherin? Nobody good can come out of there!" He looked to Avalon. "You wouldn't want to be in Slytherin, would you?"

"Well," Avalon thought about it for a moment. "My uncle used to be in Slytherin. Everyone says he used to be a good man. So I suppose it wouldn't be so bad."

Hector flushed red.

Avalon looked over all the first years. "I don't think it's the house that makes you who you are, but rather, it's who you are that makes the house."

"What do you mean?" Amanda spoke up.

"Just because you're in one house or another does mean you'll turn out a certain way. If you just be who you are, you'll show everyone what your house is truly about. Does that make sense?"

They nodded.

Amanda looked at him curiously. "What's your name?"

"Oh, me?" He noticed her speaking to him. "Avalon. Avalon Stratford."

They all gasped.

"What?" He looked over their stunned faces.

"You're Avalon Stratford!" Hector gasped as if someone died. "Can I have your autograph! Please!"

"Uh, I suppose…"

"You saved all those people!" Oliver exclaimed. "You're a hero!"

"I wouldn't go that far…" Avalon started but was cut off by Hector shoving a piece of parchment and quill into his face.

"You've been all the papers!" Polly said. "You're famous!"

"I can't believe this! We get to meet Avalon Stratford!"

Avalon took the quill and signed his name on the parchment. "You know, it really isn't that big of a deal…"

"Yes, it is!" Hector gasped. "You're like a celebrity!"

Avalon sighed as the others grabbed their quills and parchment, asking for autographs too.

* * *

Within their own compartment, the new Prefects and Head Girls suited up in their dress robes to begin their school duties. Hermione, appointed Head Girl for Gryffindor, threw on her black outer robe for the finishing touch, but as she looked around, she noticed that some appeared to be missing. She silently counted the numbers, looking upon the badges. She saw the right number of Prefects, and the new Head Girls, but there were no Head Boys. "So no Head Boys were chosen this year?" She said to one of the Ravenclaw Prefects dressing next to her.

"I suppose they won't choose any until that Stratford boy is sorted." The Ravenclaw Prefect said.

"That makes sense," Hermione said.

"Actually, it doesn't!" One of the Slytherin Prefects spoke up. He brushed the hair out of his eyes. "We've been at this school and worked hard over the years…and for what? This Stratford guy gets to walk right in and take it from right under our noses."

"You're just threatened that he might end up in Slytherin, and you'll be out of luck for Head Boy!" A Hufflepuff Prefect spoke up.

"So what if I am?" The Slytherin spoke up.

Hermione looked around for a moment. "Well, he's not here. I suppose one of us should go and look for him."

The Prefects looked back at her. She gave a small sigh and turned towards the compartment door, leaving them behind to finish dressing. She headed down the noisy aisle of the train, passing the snack trolley, while trying to peer in through the windows of the compartments along the way. It wasn't until she reached the back of the train that she saw an older boy sitting with some first years who were talking excitedly. She recognized him from the pictures in _Charmed _magazine and opened the door.

"I think Puddlemere United will take on the Harpies in the Cup this year, don't you?" Oliver asked.

"Naturally," Avalon said while the opening door caught his attention. He, along with the first years, looked up at Hermione while the all fell silent.

Hermione stammered for a moment as everyone looked at her. "Mr. Stratford, I presume?"

"Yes," He nodded, slightly rising out of his seat.

"You're needed up front for Prefect duty," She said formally, straightening a crease in her robes. "Your duties as Head Boy begin now."

He nodded and stood up from his seat. "It was nice to meet you all," He said to the first years then followed Hermione out of the compartment.

"If you would follow me, please." Hermione led him back down the aisle of the train towards the front. He followed her for a moment, trying to keep up with her speedy pace.

"Excuse me," He called out to her, reaching out for her arm. He gently touched her over the elbow, and she turned around.

"Yes," She breathed, locking with his sapphire blue eyes.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Uh…Hermy…NO!" She blurted out, remembering a less than endearing nickname that she acquired in her fifth year. It was George's fault for reminding her of that earlier that day on the platform.

Avalon raised an eyebrow.

"No, my name is Hermione—not Hermy." She said, clarifying her mistake. "Hermione Granger."

"Hermione—Hermione Granger," He said, effortlessly, as if it just naturally rolled off his tongue.

"Yes," she said, refreshed that she did not have to give him pronunciation lessons like she did with most people. She looked at him. "Avalon Stratford."

He nodded. "Yes, that's right. How did you know?"

"Prefect duty," She lied, turning around to continue leading him down the aisle. In no way was she going to admit to another living soul that she read that article in _Charmed_ magazine a few times over and admired the pictures frequently of the young man standing before her.

"Oh." He nodded, continuing to follow her.

Avalon spent the rest of the ride to Hogwarts among the fellow Prefects and Head Girls learning about his upcoming duties for the school year. Some of them seemed friendly enough, but others, were a bit standoffish. As the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Avalon learned that he would assist in leading the first years to the castle along with Hermione. The train arrived promptly, and as the sun was setting in the western horizon, the students exited the train. The first years were lead towards the boats while all others were lead towards the carriages pulled by the mysterious and invisible Thestrals. Soon, all students trampled through the castle once again to being another school year. Following Hermione and Avalon, the first years were led into the castle alone while everyone waited for them inside the Great Hall. They were met by the short and stout, Professor Flitwick. He greeted them warmly and relieved Hermione of her duties. She headed into the Great Hall leaving Avalon and the first years with the Professor.

Professor Flitwick began to give them an overview of the events that they were moments from entering. "It just a moment, you will enter the Great Hall where you will spend much of time over the next few years—dining, studying and spending time with your House. After you enter, you all will take your turn with the Sorting Hat. You will be sorted into one of the four noble houses of Hogwarts—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw—that's my house—and this will become your new family here at Hogwarts…" He paused and looked up. "Aurora, darling, come closer."

Everyone turned around. Standing gingerly at the bottom of the stairs, the young woman stood with her long black hair flowing down past her shoulders. She faintly smiled, as the Professor called upon her, and she slowly assimilated into the crowd.

"Now shall we begin?" Flitwick said excitedly. He turned around and led the nervous looking first years into the Great Hall. It was a daunting feeling to step into such a large and mysterious room as the candles floated weightlessly high above them and to have hundreds of eyes starting upon them. The first years moved slowly down the aisle between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, frightened and nervous, as Professor Flitwick charged forward. He led them to the front where the Sorting Hat awaiting them.

The Hat had a welcoming song for the students which did not last long compared to other years, but after it spoke its piece, the newest Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall, motioned her hand to commence the sorting. Excited, Flitwick waved his wand, calling a large scroll almost as large as himself, to him. He unrolled it and began to call the students forward.

Curious at the two students that looked much older than first years, the students sitting at the House tables paid much more attention to what was happening in the sorting than usual. Murmurs and whispers circulated through the room as many had recognized the tall blonde haired boy as Avalon Stratford, but as for the girl, they did not know.

"Cuppin, Peter," Flitwick called out.

A tall sandy brown haired boy gulped and stepped forward. Professor Flitwick took a hold of the Sorting Hat while the boy sat down. The Professor reached up to place the hat on the boy's head, but straining with all his might, he could not reach the boy's head even when the boy bent over. The students giggled at the sight, but soon, Madame Pomfrey stood up from the faculty table and helped Professor Flitwick with the task.

"Hufflepuff!" The Hat cried out.

Applause erupted from the yellow house as they welcomed their new student into the ranks of Hufflepuff. The boy looked absolutely relieved as he stood up off the chair and ran over to the table in the center of the room.

"Day, Daniel."

"Gryffindor!"

"Drubel, Polly."

"Slytherin!"

While watching the sorting unfold, Hermione snatched a small mint from the dish in the center of the table and popped it into her mouth. Ginny turned her attention away from the sorting towards Hermione. "So what's he like?"

"What's who like?" Hermione asked.

"_'What's who like?_'" Ginny mocked. "Avalon Stratford!"

"Why do you care? Aren't you supposed to be with Harry?"

"And aren't you supposed to be with my brother?" She teased back as Hermione flushed a bright red.

"Eriksson, Ingrid."

"Ravenclaw!"

Ginny smirked. "Lighten up, will you?"

"Gosh, he's so gorgeous!" A girl giggled.

Hermione glanced up towards the 4th year Gryffindor girls across the table from her. They giggled and whispered while staring at the older boy in line.

"Fink, Sean."

"Slytherin!"

"I wonder what he's like," One of the girls whispered.

"I _wonder_ if he's got a girlfriend!" The other whispered.

"Freeman, Sarah."

"Gryffindor!"

Hermione clapped as she heard the word Gryffindor shouted, but she did not pay attention to whom it was correlated with. Instead she caught the words of another student at the table, asking about the older girl who also stood with the first years.

"I don't know who that is. I've never seen her before," Someone said.

Hermione stared at the girl. She was a little bit tall for a girl, but still shorter than most of the boys at Hogwarts. She was slender, toned, and dressed very neatly with her shirt tail tucked in properly, and her long black hair combed to a beautiful shine. She pondered for a moment. "McGonagall."

"McGonagall?" Ginny asked.

"Johnson, Hector."

"Yes," Hermione turned to Ginny. "That's got to be McGonagall's niece's daughter. You know, that one we read about in the paper."

Ginny looked over at the girl and cocked her head. "I guess so."

"It has to be."

"Gryffindor!"

Ginny nodded and turned her attention back to the sorting.

"Lug, Zander"

A short boy with blonde hair ran up to the stood excitedly. He leaned up towards the hat as Madame Pomfrey placed the hat on his head. The Hat pondered for a few moments before coming to an answer.

"Hufflepuff!" The Hat cried out.

"McGonagall, Aurora."

The Great Hall fell silent as the older girl from the crowd of first years started to walk forward. As the hall quieted down, the sound of her heels clicked against the marble floor. Aurora instantly felt her lungs cease up as her foot touched onto the step of the platform. The feeling only grew worse as she saw her Aunt Minerva cranking her neck for a better view. As she approached the short Professor with the scroll and the nurse holding the hat in her hands, she wondered if anyone had ever thrown up in the Sorting Hat before.

"Hmm, you were right," Ginny said, looking up, mildly interesting in the scene unfolding.

Hermione watched intently, also stealing at the Headmaster's face, as the girl took a seat on the stool. Professor McGonagall had come to be something of a mentor to Hermione, and during this moment, Hermione felt its importance to the Headmistress perhaps more than anyone else in the room.

Aurora closed her eyes as Madame Pomfrey raised her arm. "So this is what dying feels like," She said to herself. The Hat was placed upon her head. Before she could even think, the Hat cried out:

"Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table roared. Aurora spun around quickly seeing her Aunt standing and applauding fervently. She continued this even as the other cheers died in the Great Hall. She stopped only as she noticed the other faculty staring at her, and McGonagall sat back down with a small blush upon her cheeks. Aurora slowly arose off the stood and made her way to the Gryffindor table, relearning how to breathe again.

"Perkins, Oliver."

The boy walked up to the Sorting Hat and took a seat at the stool. The hat was placed upon his small head, almost covering his eyes. The hat pondered for a moment. "Eager and curious this one—hmm, let me see…Ravenclaw!" The hat cried. The boy looked disappointed, seeing as his best mate, was sorted into Gryffindor. He slid down off the stool and slowly walked over to the Ravenclaw table where his new housemates were cheering for him.

Students at the Gryffindor table were trying to rearrange themselves to make room for newcomers at the table. Aurora stood waiting for a seat as the students moved around to make room. She looked up as Professor Flitwick called another name.

"Rigel, Olivia."

Aurora watched as a beautiful little blonde haired girl came out of the crowd of first years and headed up front onto the platform. She took a seat and cringed in fear as the large hat was placed over her head.

The hat only took a few moments to decide. "Slytherin!"

The girl smiled brightly and leapt off the stood. The green and silver Slytherin table erupted into cheer to welcome their new member, but one voice caught Aurora's attention.

"Well done, Olivia!" An older boy clapped loudly. "Well done!" Aurora looked over at him as he applauded. He stood next to the table and the young girl ran for his arms. He embraced her tightly for a moment then motioned her to join the other first years at the table. He was a bit stocky and muscular, but by no means large. His dark hair was very short, as if it was recently cut by a razor. After the girl left him and he stood up straight again, he glanced over to his left for a moment, noticing Aurora staring at him.

"Starling, Vima."

Aurora glanced away for a moment, but he continued to look at her. She then looked back at him. He smiled and nodded to her, locking his dark eyes with hers across the room. Aurora then looked away, and he did the same afterward. Finally, a seat was open for Aurora. She looked at the girl next to her, who maybe appeared to be a third or fourth year. "Who is that?" She pointed discreetly.

The girl looked in the direction Aurora was pointing. "Uh, I think that's Cain…Cain Rigel. He's a fifth year."

"Ravenclaw!"

"No, Cain Rigel is a sixth year!" Another girl spoke up.

"He's a Slytherin beater." A third year boy spoke up. "Pretty good one too."

Aurora continued to watch him from across the room. "Cain Rigel," She whispered to herself. Something about the boy's face and mannerism reminded her of something, but she could not place it. She dismissed her thoughts and continued to watch the ceremony.

"Stratford, Avalon."

The room fell under a spell of silence as the older boy walked up towards the platform. Even the professors shifted in their seats as he made his way forward. He sat down on the stool, and the creak echoed throughout the Great Hall. Madame Pomfrey came forward and placed the Sorting Hat upon his head.

The lifeless hat animated once atop Avalon's head. "A Stratford boy!" The Hat exclaimed with a hint of frustration in its voice. "I thought you were all gone," It mumbled. "Let me think, let me think, let me think…This isn't going to be easy. Of course, you Stratford boys never were easy…" The Hat's mumbling started to become indistinguishable for a while. "You're brave and courageous like Lancelot, but you're also trustworthy and honestly like Gawain…oh, this isn't easy…I see you have your father's intelligence, no doubt—Percival was a gifted one…but, you have Dagomir's cunning…and you're quite truly a pureblood…" The Hat continued to mumble.

Avalon's eyes rolled upward, trying to make sense of the Hat upon his head. "So which house am I supposed to be sorted?"

The Hat pressed its lips tightly together. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, _you don't know_?" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed. The entire Great Hall gasped, as if in horror.

The Headmistress arose from her seat and walked over to Madame Pomfrey and the Sorting Hat. "What do you mean, _you don't know_?" She asked the Hat. "You're the Sorting Hat! You're supposed to sort the students based on their abilities and personalities into the proper house!"

"That is the question, my mistress—what is the proper house?" The Hat retorted to the Headmistress. "The boy has qualities that would mark him for all the houses."

"Can you _just _pick one?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"This is an important decision—one that will affect the rest of his time here at Hogwarts." She said, looking over Avalon. Her emerald eyes shifted upwards towards the hat. "Look deeper—I'm sure you can find somewhere to place him."

The Hat closes its eyes and concentrated harder than anyone had ever seen it before. It stood silent for what seemed like an eternity before it re-animated again. "Gryffindor," It said, quietly but confidently.

Headmistress McGonagall clapped first before everyone recovered from his or her shock. The entire Great Hall erupted into applause as Avalon stood up off the stool and walked over to Gryffindor table to join them.

The Hat gave a deep sigh of relief. "That wasn't easy!"

Professor Flitwick looked around for a moment. "Shall we continue?" He looked around again then looked back to his parchment. "York, Amanda,"

The Hat decided easily that Amanda York would be placed into Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat Ceremony was finished, and the old and weathered Hat was taken back to the Headmistress' office for safe keeping until next year. The new Headmistress arose, demanding silently the attention of the Great Hall. She stood, stern and proper, with emerald green robes trailing down her body waiting for silence.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you know, it has been a difficult season in the Wizarding world, and in many ways, we are trying to rebuild a future for all magical and non-magical kind alike. I know that many of you might feel uneasy being here, but I assure you that I and the staff here at Hogwarts shall do everything in our power to maintain safety and order." The students applauded after she paused in speech. "As you may have noticed, we have had many changes in faculty over the past year," She looked back towards the faculty table. "Please rise when I call your names." She motioned with her arm. "Phaedrus Fickle."

The short chubby little man shot up from his seat with a large beaming smile upon his face. He fervently waved his hand to the students as they applauded him.

"Phaedrus Fickle comes to us from the Ministry of Magic under _the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. _He served for many years on the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee and has spent several hours in research and study living among Muggle communities of England. Mr. Fickle will be joining us as our new Professor of Muggle Studies." Professor McGonagall said. She glanced back towards the faculty table where he was still standing and waving long after she finished talking about him. She waited a moment for him to finish, but he did not. "Ahem!"

Fickle blushed sheepishly and sat back down.

Professor McGonagall moved down the line. "Next we have Archimedes S. Ninox who will be joining us as Professor of Transfiguration." He did not rise as she called his name, but he sat in his chair closely examining the water stains upon his fork. "Anyway," She cleared her throat. "Mr. Ninox has been numerously published in _Transfiguration Today_ for such articles as "Ethics and Self-Transfiguration" and "It's All in the Wrist." The skinny man did not notice he was being spoken about as he continued to stare at the fork, and the Professor moved on down the table.

"Coming onto staff with us is Miranda Mirkwood. She will be serving very closely with Professor Slughorn in the potions division." The dark and thinly woman stood up, almost as if she was floating, out of her seat. Her facial expression did not change, but she intensely started the body of students down, as if she could see right through them. "Miss. Mirkwood has left her position at LeFay Brewing Company to join us as an assistant teacher of potions." McGonagall looked over at the young woman and the frightful expression upon her face, and she turned back to the students. "She also is a lover of fine poetry." She glanced back over at the stoic Mirkwood. "Isn't that nice?"

The students clapped apprehensively.

McGonagall cleared her throat again. "Moving on," She finally arrived at the other end of the table. "Please welcome, Mr. Leopold Pascal from Germany."

The man at the far end of the table arose and gave a gentle wave and smile. He was a middle-aged man, with blonde hair slowly turning a shade of silver. He was small and wiry, and over his right eye there was a black patch and a scar that tore through his eyebrow. Despite the appearance of a hardened veteran of adventure and battle, he looked warm and friendly to the students.

"Mr. Pascal hails from the Black Forest Academy of Magic in Germany and has served in Germany as a Wächter for the German Ministry of Magic. I have known Mr. Pascal for many years, and I trust that he will be an excellent addition to the Hogwarts faculty as our new teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts." McGonagall motioned to him again and he sat down. "Mr. Pascal shall also be taking up Gryffindor Head of House in my stead during this year."

The Gryffindors applauded politely.

McGonagall clasped her hands together. "Shall we begin our welcoming feast?" The foot appeared on the table as the last word rolled off her tongue.

Aurora, now a Gryffindor, slowly picked up her dining utensils and began to choose what she wanted for dinner, but as she looked up, she caught him in her gaze once again from across the room. She started at Cain Rigel's face for a moment but as another student passed her a basket of dinner rolls, she dismissed these thoughts and took a roll.


	6. The First Day

**Chapter Six**

**The First Day**

Ginny had followed Hermione around the castle as the Head Girl attended to her duties so they could talk about the events at the welcoming feast. After making sure all the Gryffindor Prefects were doing their jobs, Hermione and Ginny headed towards the seventh floor towards the Fat Lady.

"Hopefully this should be quite a calm school term compared to the last years, dear Violet," The Fat Lady said just before taking a sip from her glass.

Violet nodded earnestly, raising her glass in a toast. "Hear! Hear!"

"Periwinkle blue," Ginny said.

"Incorrect!" The Fat Lady slurred her _r_'s.

Ginny looked over at Hermione. "I thought you said that was the password."

"It was!" Hermione looked directly into the portrait. "Miss…" She cleared her throat. "…Fat Lady…you told me earlier that the password was _periwinkle blue_."

"Yes, it was..." The Fat Lady hiccupped. "But I've changed it to something different now."

"You know you're not supposed to change it unless it's agreed upon by the Prefects and the Head of House." Hermione crossed her arms.

"She's always so difficult when she's drunk," Ginny said.

"_I _am not drunk!" The Fat Lady exclaimed with another hiccup. "Violet and I are merely celebrating the new school year."

"That's right!" Violet piped up while raising her glass, spilling the contents down the front of her dress.

A group of fifth year boys came up behind Hermione and Ginny. The two older girls stepped out of the way for a moment.

"You don't think it's some kind of joke do you?" One of the boys asked.

Another boy shook his head despairingly. "Might as well give it a try." He looked around for a moment before speaking to the Fat Lady. "Stunning Stratford."

The two women in the portrait giggled for a moment before looking at the group of boys again. "You may enter." She swung open. Hermione and Ginny followed quickly behind.

"We'll be changing _that_ password in the morning," Hermione said.

"That's if the Fat Lady doesn't have a hangover," Ginny replied.

The two of them weaved through the crowd of students reacquainting after the holiday. The noise of blaring music, the popping of Exploding Snap, and the dull roar of conversation buzzed their ears. They headed up the winding staircase towards the Girl's Dormitory.

As she worked on undoing the tiny clasp of her gold necklace, Aurora spun around at the sound of the door flying open. Hermione and Ginny, both surprised to find someone in the dormitory that early, stood silent for a moment. They looked on at the new girl they would be sharing a room with for the next year. She was somewhat tall and slender, neatly dressed without a wrinkle, and long dark hair. She glanced towards her own dresser as she continued to remove her necklace.

"You must be Aurora McGonagall," Hermione spoke up.

Aurora looked over at them. "Yes," She said shyly.

Ginny came out from Hermione and moved into the room. She headed for Aurora with an extended hand. "Ginny Weasley." After grasping Aurora's hand and shaking it, she nodded towards Hermione. "And that's Hermione."

Hermione came forward and extended her hand. "Hermione Granger."

Aurora repeated the name as she shook hands with Hermione, making sure she said it right. It was at that moment that Crookshanks, who was curled up on Hermione's bed, began to meow loudly.

"Is that your cat?" Aurora turned towards the bed, fascinated.

"Yes, he's mine. His name is Crookshanks."

Aurora reached out her hand and stroked the orange cat's mane, causing the cat to purr even louder. "He's part Kneazle, isn't he?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "That's right. He is. How did you know?"

Aurora glanced back at her. "Well, when you're mum's an Animagus…" Her voice quieted for a moment. "…_was_ an Animagus."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances for a moment, remembering the horrific story they read in the paper about this girl. Ginny, however, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bend over to pet Crookshanks. "The fur ball likes you."

"Hmmm, yes," Aurora said as the cat rubbed his cheekbone against her hand.

"He doesn't like just anybody, you know. He's hates my brother." Ginny walked over to her bed and started pulling off her robes.

"He does hate him!" Hermione exclaimed.

Aurora stood back up and turned towards her bed. "Kneazles are quite discerning creatures."

Hermione picked up Crookshanks, putting him in her lap as she sat down. "You don't hate Ron, do you Crookshanks?" She asked in a babying voice.

"Just because _you _don't, doesn't mean _your cat_ doesn't." Ginny threw her sweater vest onto her bed.

"You love him. Yes, you do. Yes, you do," Hermione continued.

"And just because _you _love him, doesn't mean _your cat_ does, either."

Hermione blushed furiously, stopping her kitty-talk.

"So where are you from, Aurora?" Ginny asked, picking out some casual clothes from her trunk.

Aurora looked up from her dressed. "Wales—mostly around St. David's."

"Hmm, not familiar with the area. I've only heard of it." Ginny said. "So you're related to McGonagall how?"

"My mum was her niece so that makes her my great-aunt." Aurora turned towards the other two. "She's the only family I have left now."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, empathetically. "The War was difficult for everyone. I don't think anyone was left unaffected by it."

Aurora nodded. Silence fell between the girls for a moment as they finished changing into causal attire. Finally, after throwing a cardigan sweater over her tee-shirt, she turned back towards the girls. "So who's Ron?"

Ginny only giggled as Hermione's face flushed a bright red.

* * *

Everyone was groggy in the morning after a late night in the Gryffindor Common Room. In preparation for the first day of school, the students donned their uniforms, packed their books, and headed down from the Dormitories. Just as she had mentioned the night before, Hermione's first task of the morning was to change the Gryffindor password, but as she came down the stairs, the new Head of House had already set to the task.

"Frau," He called in her in his thick accent. I think another password would be more appropriate for entrance into the common room…"

"Good morning, Professor Pascal," Hermione greeted him.

The man turned from the Fat Lady to Hermione. "Good morning, Fraulein Granger." He cocked his head to look at her with his one good eye. "Perhaps you could help me reason with the Frau here?"

Hermione glanced over at the Fat Lady and released a slight laugh. "I'll try, but she's rather stubborn."

The middle-aged German Professor reached up and ran a hand through his short silvery-blonde hair and pondered for a moment. "Isn't there anything else that you could choose to be the password? The male students feel uncomfortable…"

"No!" The Fat Lady shrieked. "I have chosen what I have chosen! Will you deny a woman her heart? Will you tell her not to feel anymore?"

"Nein—of course not." Professor Pascal glanced away as the Fat Lady began a tirade. He cringed as she began to start squealing and sobbing. "Frau, I only request this of you because I know you to be a most virtuous and fair guardian of Gryffindor."

The Fat Lady stopped crying while her ears perked. She sniffled. "Go on, Professor."

Hermione watched as the Professor chose his words carefully. "The other students would become quite jealous if they knew of your favors towards a certain individual. Now, you, Frau, I know to be a most just and fair lady…"

"Perhaps you are right, dear Professor. I shall choose another password."

Hermione smirked. She was soon joined by Aurora and Ginny who were walking down to the Great Hall together.

"Thank you, Frau. You are most gracious," Pascal said.

"The new password from now on shall be _Princely Professor_!"

"Nein!" The Professor exclaimed exasperated.

The crowd that was gathering at the portrait started to murmur excitedly. "Avalon's coming! Avalon's coming!"

"Mr. Stratford is coming!" The Fat Lady exclaimed. "Oh, oh, how do I look?"

"Fat as always," A student said under his breath.

"I heard that!" She snapped.

Ooo's and ahhh's escaped many of the lips as the young man stepped through the portrait hole onto the Great Staircase. He glanced around for a moment, noticing the built up crowd, but lost attention once Professor Pascal put a hand on his shoulder.

"I was hoping to see you, Mr. Stratford." The Professor gave a glance at Hermione also. "If I could arrange a meeting with you both sometime today, that would be excellent. Do you have free time after Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"I'm free afterward, but I'll only have an hour until Arithmancy, Professor," Hermione spoke up.

Avalon took a moment to examine his timetable. "Yes, same for me as well."

"Great! That will be fine. I just need a few moments to discuss some House issues. I apologize, but I am new at this."

"There's no need to apologize. We'll see you after class, Professor." Hermione said.

"Danke," Professor Pascal shuffled down the stairs in a hurry leaving the students to themselves.

Aurora glanced down, noticing a piece of fluff on her Gryffindor sweater-vest. She picked it off and flicked it to the side before glancing up. Her eyes caught over the other newcomer. His thick wild hair shot up in spikes, falling in his bright blue eyes. His white collar shirt stuck out untucked from his sweater and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His messenger bad hung loosely at his side while he gripped onto the strap. Aurora crossed her arms as she continued down the staircase. Ginny and Hermione followed her. Avalon shrugged and trailed behind them.

As they rounded the fourth floor, Hermione glanced back for a moment. "Where's your Head Boy badge?"

"It's in my bag."

"You're supposed to wear it."

"Oh," Avalon shrugged. "I didn't think I had to wear it all the time."

Hermione pondered for a moment. There was nothing in the rules that said one had to wear the badge at all times—there just had never been anyone who didn't want to wear it at all times. "It will help the younger students identify you, and besides, you're new to the school. Not everyone knows you." She realized how dumb that last statement was after she said it.

"I suppose you're right." Avalon reached into his bag and dug for the gold badge until he found it. He continued walking down the stairs as he pinned it to his sweater.

Soon they joined up on the stair cases with other students coming down for breakfast—the Ravenclaws from the West tower and the Slytherins coming up from the dungeons. Once they came closer to the Great Hall, Hufflepuffs came up from the basement to join them.

"Hey, Avalon! Sit with us!" Some older Gryffindor boys pulled him off before receiving an answer from him. Hermione, Ginny, Aurora however continued at a walking pace until they reached their usual section of the table which happened to be close to Avalon and the other Gryffindor boys.

An owl was already waiting for Hermione with the Daily Prophet. She pulled the correct change out of her pocket and gave it to the owl before taking the paper. Large and on the front page was a picture of Avalon and his mother hugging at the train station. "STRATFORD SAYS GOODBYE TO SICK MOTHER BEFORE LEAVING HOGWARTS." Many around them started giggling as they looked at the picture of a middle-aged woman kissing Avalon on the forehead. Avalon looked down at his breakfast, deeply interested in buttering his toast.

Hermione laid the paper down on the table, trying to spare the boy some embarrassment, while she turned the pages.

"Oh, look!" Ginny pointed. "The Chudley Cannons won a game! Ron will be sure pleased!"

Hermione nodded fervently. "He will." Her eyes continued to scan for a moment before a slight gasp escaped her mouth. "Look! Harry and Ron are in the paper!"

"Where?" Ginny leaned over.

"There!" Hermione pointed to a picture of a group of students. "NEW AURORS IN TRAINING." They looked over the picture noting the faces they recognized.

"There's Neville too!" Ginny pointed.

Hermione sighed. "Randall Weasleby—why is it so difficult for everyone to get his name right?"

Ginny read off the name's in Ron and Harry's row. "Martin Elliot, Charles Free, Harry Potter, and Randall Weasleby. Yep. That's my brother—Randall Weasleby!" Ginny sighed. "Harry looks happy though. I should write to him."

"You write to Harry Potter?" Avalon perked up.

Ginny looked over at him, surprised at his reaction. "Yes? Why?"

"Well, he's brilliant!" Avalon said. "He defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! He's the Boy Who Lived!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Funny—all the papers are talking about you, but you want to talk about Harry Potter."

Avalon shrugged, looking back to his toast. "Harry's the hero. Not me."

"Your article in _Charmed_ magazine would prove differently, Mr. Stratford," Aurora spoke up before taking a sip of orange juice.

"_That_! You'd have to be completely foolish to read _that_ trash!" Avalon exclaimed. "They twisted everything I said!"

"Are you saying I'm _foolish_?"

"Only if you read _that_ garbage!"

Aurora shifted in her seat, turning her as far away from Avalon as possible. "I'm not so sure I know what to believe about you, Mr. Stratford."

"Well, suit yourself." He continued to eat his toast.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances.

The Headmistress' strict voice echoed through the Great Hall as she yelled a group of fifth years not to throw food with the _Depulso_ spell across the room. She made her way down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables stopping right behind Aurora.

"I trust things are going well, Miss McGonagall?" The Headmistress asked.

Aurora nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"Let me see your timetable." The Headmistress reached down and took it off Aurora's books. "Let's see…Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions. What? Are you trying to become an Auror? That seems to be a pretty popular career choice these days."

Aurora shook her head. "No,"

"Then what are you planning to do?"

Aurora reached up and tugged at her earlobe. "I was thinking about becoming a Healer."

"A Healer?" The headmistress questioned. "Your mother never told me you had any interest in being a Healer."

"I didn't have a chance to tell her either."

"Oh," The Headmistress handed back the paper. She looked around at the other seventh year students at the table. "Study hard. Your N.E.W.T's are of vital importance to your futures."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," They said in unison. The Headmistress then continued towards the high table.

"You think McGonagall's replacement will be any good?" Ginny asked. Aurora and Hermione looked up at the high table towards the new Transfiguration teacher. He was perched back in his chair sleeping with his mouth hanging wide open.

Hermione took note of the time. "We should probably be heading off to Charms class about now." The other two girls followed her lead and headed out of the Great Hall.

As Aurora was about to exit through the large wooden doors, a pair of Slytherin boys pushed past her, knocking the contents of her entire bag to the ground.

"Oh no!" She gasped as ink spilled all over the floor.

"Gryffindors are losers!" The boys ran up the stairs.

"Five points from Slytherin!" Hermione yelled, trying to catch the boys before they ran away. She sighed. "I'll take another five the next time I see them for running away."

Aurora scrambled quickly to pick up her belongings as students walked all around her, some even stepping on her things. Her hand went to her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 7,_ but a strong hand beat her to it.

"Is this yours?"

Aurora looked up into the dark brown eyes of the Slytherin boy standing before her. As she stood up, he was only about two inches taller than she was, but he was thicker and more muscular than she. "Yes," She answered gingerly.

He opened the front cover, looking on the inside. "Aurora McGonagall, is it?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Cain Rigel." He closed the book and handed it back to her.

"It's nice to meet you, Cain," She said politely as she bent back down to gather her things. "Thank you."

Cain pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Reparo!" He pointed to the glass ink containers, cleaning them up quickly.

Aurora grabbed the ink bottled and shoved them back in her bag before standing up. "Thank you. That helped."

"You're welcome," Cain said with a nod. He glanced over at Ginny and Hermione who stood waiting for their friend. "See you on the pitch, Ginny," He said with a nod before taking off into the Great Hall.

"Hmmm, Slytherins aren't usually that nice," Ginny said as Aurora joined them. "He must be trying to rattle our defenses."

"What do you mean?" Aurora asked.

"Ginny's the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain this year," Hermione said.

"Really?" Aurora perked up. "I play Quidditch!"

"You do?" Ginny asked, slightly surprised. "What position?"

"Keeper," Aurora nodded fervently. "I've played in summer league since I was eight and been flying since…well…as long as I can remember. I was on the St. David's Doxies."

"The _Doxies_?" Ginny asked.

"_I know_, but we were pretty good."

"Tryouts will be soon. You'll have to come out then."

"I certainly will." Aurora nodded. She thought back to the encounter with the Slytherin boy. His face seemed so familiar—like a blurry dream—but she could not capture it. "Who was that boy?" She asked the other two.

"Cain Rigel," Ginny said, with bitterness in her mouth. "He's on the Slytherin team—a beater—and unfortunately, a pretty good one too. He isn't stupid like Crabbe and Goyle were either."

"Who?" Aurora asked.

"Nevermind." They continued to the Charms classroom.

* * *

Later that day, the seventh years all waited patiently (and noisily) for their new Transfiguration Professor to show up to class. Origami birds and airplanes magically zoomed around the room while others gossiped, traded cards and candies, or read the newspaper.

Aurora sat quietly in her desk, heading her parchment with the proper titles. "Aurora McGonagall—September 2, 1998—Transfiguration—Professor…"

"Avalon, I heard about your mother…" A sweet voice filled Aurora's ears. She looked up to see a group of girls crowding around Avalon's desk in the front.

A Hufflepuff girl stood with a box of chocolates while her friends surrounded her. "…I read about it in the paper this morning." She handed him the box. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be here for you."

"Um…well…thanks…I guess…" Avalon gingerly took the box. After the girls walked away, he quickly tucked it away in his bag.

Aurora shook her head.

The large doors to the Transfiguration classroom burst open, surprising everyone back into his or her seat. The new professor stomped forward with a large stack of books in his arms. His baggy robes fluttered in the wind revealing his skinny ankles and pointed shoes. He slammed the books on his desk and spun around to his students.

"Seventh years, eh?" He looked over them.

The class was quiet but a few students nodded.

He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "The name is Professor Ninox for you nincompoops who weren't paying attention last night—Archimedes S. Ninox."

"What's the "_S_" stand for?"

"It stands for "_shut your mouth when I'm talking and don't ask questions."_

A few students giggled.

"Minerva's taken you through most of the basic concepts and spells for Transfiguration. Mostly this year we'll be working on the art of perfection and concentration." He gazed over his students for a moment, walking behind his desk while doing so.

Dean Thomas, who returned also for his N.E.W.T's, sat up straight as he listened to the new Professor.

He put his hands on his desk and leaned towards the students. "It's one thing to cast a spell with all the time in the world, but under pressure…in an uncertain moment…" Quickly he drew his wand and flicked it. "_Rictusempra!" _

Avalon Stratford, who sat causally in his seat with his wand in hand, quickly animated. "Protego!"

The red light of the _Rictusempra_ spell surged forward and bounced off the green shield Avalon made in front of himself. The red spell came back, flying straight at the Professor. Quickly, the old man ducked under his desk, barely missing the spell. The spell then hit the movable chalkboard behind his desk causing it to spin rapidly. One large gasp escaped from the students during the whole process.

"Professor! I'm so sorry!" Avalon shot out of his seat.

The old man continued to lie on the floor with his skinny ankles completely visible to the class. He released a hearty laugh for a few moments while he continued to lay there. "Oooohhh, I haven't moved like that since 1962," He laughed, standing to his feet and brushing off his robes.

"Professor, I'm sorry! I just reacted! I didn't mean…"

"What's your name, boy?"

"Avalon Stratford, sir."

Professor Ninox straightened his hand. "You're the one the papers won't shut up about. I'm getting mighty sick of hearing it."

"Perhaps you should cast _Rictusempra _on them?" He said with a smirk.

The Professor stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I like you, kid." He waved his hand. "Sit down. Sit down."

Hermione stared, her mouth agape.

"We'll also be working heavily with Conjuration and Non-Verbal Spells," Professor Ninox continued. "Take out your books and turn to page 38."

As the professor began to lecture, a Hufflepuff turned to Avalon. "Good job, mate."

Avalon nodded, "Thanks."

"Yeah, that was cool!" A Gryffindor whispered.

Avalon looked up, noticing the disapproving glance upon Aurora's face.

* * *

Aurora sighed as her heavy feeling legs trotted down the Grand Staircase towards the Great Hall. Her backpack was heavy full of books and new assignments for her classes. As she finally came to the last set of stairs, she was joined at the landing by a Slytherin.

"Good evening, Aurora." Cain Rigel said, as he came up to the landing from the downstairs dungeon.

Aurora nodded curtly. "Good evening."

He paused on the landing to speak with her. "How was your first day?"

"Exhausting," She said with a sigh. She glanced around for a moment looking for her new friends Ginny and Hermione.

"Hmmm, yes—especially since it's your N.E.W.T year." He said, putting his hand to his chin.

She nodded. "Yes,"

"What N.E.W.T's are you going for?"

"There you are!"

Ginny and Hermione came down the stairs with another girl behind them. She had long dirty blonde hair and an airy look about her as if she could see something that everyone else could not.

Aurora turned. "I needed to go to the library after class. I didn't have time to run back up and put my books away."

"There's a shortcut from the library to the seventh floor. Remind me to show it to you sometime," Ginny said.

"You'll have to be careful though," The blonde girl said in a dreamy voice. "Not all shortcuts are as they appear."

"What do you mean?" Cain spoke up.

"Some shortcuts actually are traps that Vampires set up to catch unsuspecting travelers," She said. "I make sure I say "garlic" before I enter. Vampires hate even hearing the word—it makes them grow weak."

"Uh huh," Cain said.

Aurora blinked rapidly looking at the blonde girl with a serious look on her face.

Hermione motioned towards the girl. "Aurora, this is Luna Lovegood. She's one of our…"

"You fought at the Department of Mysteries," Aurora said.

"Yes," Luna said, airy. "It is a shame that I had to visit in such a circumstance. I would have liked much to have the time to look around."

"Wouldn't anyone?" Aurora added.

Luna nodded. "Yes, I've heard rumors that the Ministry has a Crumpled-Horned Snorlack in captivity in the Department of Mysteries. I would very much like to set it free. A beautiful creature such as the Snorlack should not be trapped like that."

Hermione bit her lip—hard.

"Shall we go to dinner?" Ginny changed the subject.

Aurora nodded and followed the girls after they began to move down the stairs towards the Great Hall.

"Have a good night then," Cain said with a nod.

"Thanks," Aurora looked back for a moment then continued on with her friends.

Hermione glanced back for a moment as Cain stood on the landing alone. "I think he likes you."

"I don't even know him," Aurora said. "I think…" She muttered to herself.

The Slytherin stood on the landing for a moment as he watched the girls walk away. Just as he looked down at his feet and started to move, a voiced called out to him.

"Cain, wait up!"

Cain turned around. A short boy with dark brown hair tromped up the stairs from the dungeon. "What were you talking with those Gryffindors for?"

"They weren't _all _Gryffindors." Cain shrugged.

"Oh, excuse me! I forgot about Looney."

The short boy, even shorter than Cain, made it up to the landing. He put his hand on Cain's shoulder. "A blood-traitor, mudblood, half-blood, and a loon-bag don't make good company, Cain."

"I know that," Cain mumbled.

The boy took his hand off Cain and straightened his Slytherin robes. "The Catassus family has been pure for generations; the same with the Rigel family," He nodded towards Cain. "We're a dying breed. Don't make it any worse."

"Spyros, just because I said hello—it doesn't mean anything."

"On the contrary, my boy, it means _everything_."

Cain stared forward towards the entrance of the Great Hall as students entered.

Spyros came closer to Cain's ear. "They are, after all—_the enemy_." Spyros' eyebrows hunched as he said this. He then looked up with a bright smile. "Shall we get some dinner?"

Cain nodded. "Yeah."


	7. The Writing on the Wall

Chapter Seven

**The Writing on the Wall**

Even though he tried to pay more attention at Auror class than he did during his studies at Hogwarts, Harry found his mind occasionally drifting off into other places as the teacher lectured. At these times, he would also draw little pictures of snitches with their wings humming fast—oh, how he missed Quidditch. In an effort to try and pay attention, he flipped through his notebook only to find the sun-faded newspaper article he found up above George's shop many weeks ago.

His eyes, once again, scanned over the pictures—a lifeless young man, just about Harry's own age, and a grieving family standing over the casket. He read over the name again—Dagomir Stratford. It sounded familiar. He pondered upon it for a moment until he remembered, almost wanting to kick himself for being so dumb. Was this boy in the article related to this Avalon Stratford everyone was talking about? Instantly, Harry wrinkled his nose. Over the course of the summer, Harry had looked to this article and this unknown hero, Dagomir Stratford, as a source of inspiration, but if he were related to Avalon, that glory hound, what would that mean? Perhaps nothing, but he still hated the idea of it.

Ron nudged his friend as everyone in the classroom started to pack up their belongings. Harry quickly followed suit, acting as if he were paying attention and realized that class was over.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry said, slipping his backpack onto his shoulders.

"Harry Potter! Ron Weasley!"

The professor's voice called out. Harry looked up, noticing that most everyone had already left the room. "Yes, Professor?"

The Professor walked up to Harry and Ron. "Harry, Ron," He said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Could you boys do me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?" Ron asked.

"Well, that is if you're not too busy," The Professor said. "You boys head by St. Mungo's, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Could you deliver a card and flowers for me? My friend's cousin is in the infirmary, and I would do it myself, but Margaret owled me and said that the closet is enchanted and keeps spitting out clothes. I told her I'd get to it this weekend, but that's not soon enough…" He waved his hand. "You know how it is when you're married."

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"Anyway, you'd be doing me a big favor."

"Of course, Professor." Harry pushed his glasses upward.

"His name is Baruch Pennington. I believe he is on the 3rd floor. Or maybe it's the 4th?" He pondered for a moment then shook his head. "You'll just have to ask when you get there." He put a large vase of flowers into Ron's arms then picked the card off his desk to Harry. "Thanks, lads."

Sometimes Harry and Ron would take the Floo Network straight to the Leaky Cauldron to get back home. Other times, they would take the Muggle train system—with Harry leading the way of course—for the pleasure of it. As they walked out of the classroom, Ron looked over at Harry, trying to get a better grip on the cumbersome vase. "I just remembered…" He paused for a moment to shift his weight. "…we're supposed to be helping George with inventory tonight."

Harry groaned. "We'll just have to explain what happened when we get back."

"We better use Floo powder then instead of the train."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. They headed down to the Atrium where others much like themselves were trying to leave the building. Much of the area was blocked off with magical tape and tarps to hide the new design of the centerpiece fountain that was to be remodeled. After a wait in line, it was their turn at the fireplaces.

Ron stepped in first. "See you there, mate." He nodded to Harry just before throwing his powder down. "St. Mungo's!"

After Ron disappeared within the green fire, he stepped in and grabbed a handful of powder. "St. Mungo's Hospital!" He cried before disappearing.

Harry came out of the fire tugging at his ear. He hated the pressurized "pop" in his ears every time he traveled that way. He came out of the fireplace with Ron standing there with a grin. "What?"

"I've been waiting for you."

"C'mon," Harry said, marching toward towards the front desk. "Hi, can you tell us were to find…" He glanced down at the card. "…Baruch Pennington?"

"Fourth floor, Spell Damage, room 423." She said curtly without looking up.

"Thanks," Harry continued onwards.

St. Mungo's was an unusual place to visit. It had the awe and wonder of the most interesting and powerful kinds of magic used for healing and restoring, and yet, it held the examples of the backfires and destruction of improper uses of magic. Inside were the stories of people cured and healed and the stories of those who would suffer for a lifetime. Harry and Ron made their way to the Fourth floor weaving through healers dressed in lime-green robes, and people coming to visit their loved ones. They reached 423, finding Baruch Pennington's room. He was asleep—which was his problem—a sleeping spell gone terribly wrong.

"I wonder how long he's been like this," Ron asked. "Or why we needed to bring a _sleeping_ man flowers?"

Harry shrugged. "It's done. Let's get back to Diagon Alley before George hexes us." He led the way out of the room back into the hallway. As they walked down the hall, the echo of a bird cawing filled their ears. Harry peeked in one of the rooms to his left.

He had seen that bird before. A thinly, but beautiful woman, with long straight blonde hair sat in a plush chair with a quill in her right hand. The small falcon with grey wings and a light brown belly cawed at her and sometimes would affectionately pick at her left hand.

"Please come in, Gentlemen," She called sweetly.

Harry shook his head to snap out of his daze. He didn't realize he was staring until she called to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I just…I just was noticing your bird."

The woman faintly smiled and reached up to stroke the bird across the chest. "His name is Mercury. He's my son's messenger falcon."

Ron stepped forward. "Not many people use falcons. That's more of a Muggle thing."

"True," she said. "But my son fell in love with him at first sight." She took a moment to finish her last sentence on the parchment. She looked up once she was finished. "I'm writing to my son now, in fact. I just got his first letter from Hogwarts. He's in Gryffindor."

"Good house," Ron said.

She faintly chuckled. "You don't say." As she laughed, she began to cough violently. Her hand came up to her mouth.

"Are you alright?" Harry leapt forward to help along with Ron.

She nodded once her fit fell under control. She took a moment to regain her breath. "I'll be fine, thank you."

"May I ask what happened?" Harry asked gently.

She gave a light sigh. "I assume that you are acquainted with Antonin Dolohov, Harry Potter?"

"How did you know my name?" Harry asked, wide eyed.

"I'm a Seer," She said.

"Really?" Ron asked, impressed.

"No," She giggled, pointing to her forehead.

Harry reached up, touching his uncovered forehead. "Yeah, almost forgot." He smiled too.

"Hmmm, I'm glad you're forgetting." She said serenely, her blue eyes sparkling with sincerity.

Harry pondered on that for a moment.

"So Dolohov did this to you?" Ron asked, gritting through his teeth.

She nodded. "Yes, an unknown spell." She glanced out the window towards the bright sunny sky. "They're going to call it Dark Lung Curse. It caused a black disease to attack my lungs. I sometimes have trouble breathing, as you can see."

"Can the healers…do anything?" Harry asked.

"They are trying. They've slowed the process for now, and with any luck, they'll…" She looked them back towards them. "Well forget this gloomy talk!" She smiled. "Perhaps you both could do something for me?"

"What is it?" They asked concurrently.

"My son would love to have your autographs. Do you mind?" She held up the quill and parchment.

"Not at all," Harry said. "What's your son's name?"

"Avalon."

Harry's eyes popped. "Avalon Stratford?" It finally dawned on him. He had seen the falcon at platform 9¾ when he said goodbye to Hermione and Ginny. He had seen thiswoman there also, saying goodbye to her son.

"He wants _our _autographs?" Ron asked.

The woman nodded fervently. "Yes, of course. He admires you both greatly. He'd love nothing more."

"Well, alright," Harry took the quill and signed the parchment at the bottom. He handed it to Ron, and he did the same.

A Healer walked into the room. "Sorry, boys, I need to administer Ms. Stratford's antidote right now. You'll have to step outside for a moment."

"We've got to be going anyway," Ron said. "It was nice to meet you…uh…" He paused awkwardly.

"Krista—Krista Stratford." She filled in the blank with a smile. "It was nice to meet you both also."

Harry nodded. "I hope you start feeling better soon."

"Me too," Ron said.

"Thank you, both."

They exited the room and the Healer closed the door behind them. They headed down the hallway. Ron waited until they were a few doors down before he turned to Harry. "Everyone wants_ his_ autograph, and he wants _ours_?"

"Yeah, strange, isn't it?" Harry nodded. They headed back to the main floor and used the Floo Network to get back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Dang it—I should have asked her about that article!" Harry snapped his fingers as they stepped out into Diagon Alley.

"What article?" Ron asked.

"The Stratford article!" Harry exclaimed. "The one I found in our room when we were cleaning it out!"

"You still have that thing?"

"Oh, forget it." Harry shook his head.

* * *

The warm morning sunlight poured in through the windows of the Great Hall. It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon as the students poured into the hall for lunch. Today was a light picnic style lunch of sandwiches, kettle cooked potato crisps, soups, salad, lemonade, and a variety of raw vegetables on a platter.

Aurora grabbed a sandwich and immediately opened it and picked off the sliced turkey and ham. She then set to scraping off the mayonnaise.

Avalon sat a few seats down with Dean Thomas, Iain Claverdon, Ritchie Coote, and Jimmy Peakes. His eyebrow rose as he watched Aurora pick apart her sandwich. "You're supposed to eat the thing—not mangle it." He said after swallowing a large mouthful of sandwich.

She looked up at him, annoyed, which made the guys around him snigger. "I'm a vegetarian, and besides, what business it is of yours?"

"Sorry, I was just making conversation."

"Well—_don't._"

Ginny stopped in and flung a stack of books onto the table. "I cannot believe how much homework I have already! It's only the third day of class!"

"Hmmm," Hermione muttered, concentrating on her own homework at the table.

"I wanted to see if the Quidditch pitch schedule was up yet, but it wasn't. I want to get tryouts going as soon as possible…" She looked down at Hermione. "Are you listening to me?"

"What?" Hermione looked up for a moment. "Oh…yes…Quidditch pitch…go on…I'm listening…"

"What is that you're doing anyway?" Ginny looked down at Hermione's papers.

"Runes!" Hermione said, shifting some papers around and moving her book closer to her. "Ancient Runes take lots of time you know!"

"Runes, my eye!" She lunged forward and reached for Hermione's paper. Hermione let out a small scream as she tried to tear the paper away from Ginny.

"Dear Ronald, the first day of school went fairly well…" Ginny read aloud while lying across the table."

"Ginny, give it back you…you…prat!"

Ginny let go and sat up with her eyebrow raised. "Hermione Granger? Did you just call me a prat?"

"Yes," Hermione said, sheepishly, tucking the letter away.

Ginny burst out into laughter. "You're becoming more like a Weasley everyday!"

Hermione gave a small smile.

"We've got to hurry up," Dean Thomas announced to the whole group. "It's almost time for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

They all instinctually checked their own watches then went back to eating.

Across the room at the Slytherin table, Cain Rigel sat with his back to the fireplace as he silently looked at a fixed position across the room. She didn't speak much to the others around her—she seemed a little shy—but she was very beautiful in the sunlight of the Great Hall. He raised a speared pickle to his mouth and bit into it.

"Cain, can I sit with you?"

Cain snapped out of his daze and looked over his shoulder. "Course, Livy." He said and looked down to his plate. The blonde-haired first year crawled up onto the bench and sat next to her older brother.

The little girl named Olivia Rigel set her books down and began to have lunch with her brother. "I had no idea there was so much to learn, Cain! How is anyone supposed to do it?"

He picked through his potato crisps. "You'll do fine. It's all overwhelming at first, but it'll get better." He looked up and gazed across the room again.

"I suppose so. But I have Professor Mirkwood for potions, and she seems kind of scary. And Professor Ninox is kinda grumpy."

Cain laughed as a soured look appeared on his sister's face. "I'm sure you'll do just smashing, Livy. You've got nothing to worry about. You'll make us all proud." He put his hand on her shoulder for a moment to comfort her.

"Cain?" She asked, barely above a whisper, leaning close to his ear.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think mum would be proud of me?"

Cain jerked his head toward his sister. "Yes, Livy, of course."

"Thanks," She said, still whispering. Cain nodded and turned back to his plate with a sigh.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with the first years?" A snide voice said.

Olivia shrugged her shoulders and looked away.

"Leave her alone," Cain said, looking up. Spyros and a group of older Slytherin boys took the empty seats around them.

"I…need to go anyway…I have Herbology soon." She hopped out of the seat and gathered her things. "I'll see you later, Cain."

"Olivia," He said. "You don't have to leave."

"Bye, Cain." She walked off clutching her books to her chest.

Cain shot a dirty look over at his friends, but they did not seem to notice. He grumpily returned his eyes to his lunch.

"I see things aren't going to be like they were last year at all," Spyros said, picking up an apple and tossing it into the air.

"Not with that McGonagall git as Headmistress," Graham Pritchard spoke up.

Spyros snorted in reply. "There's a lot that rests upon us, Gentlemen, isn't there…" He looked over at Cain who was staring off again. "What are you looking at?" He snapped.

Cain sharply turned his head back into the conversation. "What?"

Spyros turned around and looked off in the direction Cain was staring. The Great Hall was clearing out, but far across the other room, he saw an ebony haired girl sitting with her friends eating lunch. "Staring at that Half-blood again?"

"No!" Cain snapped.

Spyros looked back and took another glance. "Do you think she's pretty?"

"Look, I wasn't…it didn't…" Cain exclaimed.

"Forget it!" Spyros snapped. "We've got more important things to worry about right now!"

"Like what?" Reece Harper spoke up. "Have you heard anything?"

"We've heard enough. It's time to do something." Spyros leaned in closer to his friends. "I have an idea."

"You boys better hurry up! Class is about to start!" Horace Slughorn said jovially as he walked up the Slytherin table.

Spyros looked up with a big small. "Yes, Professor, we'll be in the Dungeons straight away! Wouldn't miss Potions for anything!"

Horace nodded with a smile. 'Good man, Catassus!"

Spyros nodded back. "Thanks, Professor." After Slughorn walked away, he turned back to his friends and rolled his eyes. "Blubbering idiot!"

The boys laughed as they packed up their books and left the table.

* * *

The seventh years filtering into the Defense Against the Dark Arts were noisy and jolly straight after lunch. Some took seats immediately but others stood around talking with their friends until the Professor was to arrive.

Hermione marched to the front and took the center seat in the front row. Her heavy school bag plopped to the floor, and she sat down. She bent over to dig her supplies out of her bag, but as she slowly came up, she read the golden title across a worn brown leather book. "_The Logistics of Legilimency_," She said aloud.

The book slowly came down and a pair of deep blue eyes met hers. "Yes, fascinating book. I found it in the library."

"And what class would that be for?" Hermione asked with a playful smirk. "I don't believe they teach Legilimency at Hogwarts."

Avalon put the book down further. "No class. I'm just fascinated in the subject."

"Why is that?" She asked, slightly suspicious.

"Well," He said, "Legilimency is the art of exploring and opening the mind to thoughts, ideas, feelings…" He paused for a moment. "…another can enter the mind and follow pathways to those thoughts or feelings…" He lost his thoughts for a moment. "There must be—somewhere in there—a way to restore minds that have been damaged or destroyed. Think of it—a way to cure those who have been hurt or those who have lost their memories. If somehow one could open those pathways again…" He lost his thoughts again, shaking his head. "It's just a thought."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes, I…understand."

"Guten Tag." The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's office swung open. The Professor, holding a stack of books, shuffled down the stairs and came to his desk. The students got in order and took their seats for class. "Now last class, we spend our time with your names and introductions. Now today we shall begin our introduction to Defense Against…"

"But Professor, we didn't get to hear much about you," A Ravenclaw girl interrupted.

"Ja," He shrugged. "There isn't much to tell."

"I bet that's not true." Justin Finch-Fletchley, who also returned to Hogwarts, spoke up. "Where are you from, Professor?"

The Professor gave a small smile and turned around, folding his arms over his stomach, and he leaned against his desk. "I grew up about an hour outside Essen Germany."

A student nodded towards the Professor's wand. "What's your wand made of, Sir?"

The Professor held up his wand for a moment. "Pine wood with a fairy wing core—made by Johann Von Zauberstäbe of Munich."

"What is your Patronus, Professor?" Luna Lovegood asked.

"A bear," He said. "I'm quite surprised you'd know what a Patronus is. Quite advanced magic that is."

Aurora gave her wand a squeeze as she felt her stomach turn.

"Did you go to Hogwarts?" Another student asked.

"Nein, I attended the Black Forest Academy in Germany." He noticed many of the quizzical looks on the students faces. "It's a smaller school. Not at big as Hogwarts, but fairly sizeable." He stood up off the desk and started pacing the room. "Now perhaps someone—probably someone Muggle-born…"

The students sharply inhailed at the word "_Muggle-born_." He noticed and looked around at them for a moment. "There is nothing wrong with being Muggle-born. Quick show of hands now—how many of you are Muggle-born?" A few hands went up, including Hermione's. "See," He said, "There is nothing wrong with it. My parents were Muggle-born, my w…" He trailed off. "Now anyway...perhaps one of you can tell me the legend of Hansel and Gretel?"

Hermione's hand went up in the air.

"Fraulein Granger." He pointed to her.

"Hansel and Gretel were the son and daughter of a poor woodcutter. Their mother died when they were young so their father remarried. Their step-mother, however, was evil and desired to do harm to the children. She sent them off alone in the woods to abandon them. The children wandered around the forest for hours until they stumbled upon a house made of candy. Being so hungry, the children began to eat the candied house, but little did they know, a witch lived inside that house. She invited them in and spoke kindly to them, but secretly planned to eat them."

"That's a horrible story!" A Slytherin girl spoke up.

"Anyway," Hermione continued. "The children cleverly escaped her house and found their way back to their father. Their father sent the evil step-mother away, and they lived happily ever after."

Professor Pascal gave a small applause. "Danke, Fraulein, but _that_ is a Muggle conspiracy!" He said with a large grin. The students giggled. "This is the real story—the children were truly the children of a poor woodcutter, and they did have an evil step-mother. Just as Hermione said, the evil step-mother sent the children off into the forest to abandon them. They wandered for hours growing cold and hungry until they stumbled upon a house made of candy. Starving, the children ran to the house and began to eat it. The woman who lived there was named Fraulein Schokolade. She was a witch with a persistent sweet tooth so she had built her house of candy. She was surprised to see two children eating her house because she had placed protective charms around her house. No Muggle was supposed to see her house meaning that these children were no ordinary children—they were magical. The witch confronted the children, and they explained to her their situation. After thinking for awhile, she firmly decided that she wished to train Hansel and Gretel in magic. She led the children back to their father's house to seek permission to train the children, however, the step-mother was furious. The step-mother spread the rumor that the witch liked to eat children. The father however allowed his children to study under Fraulein Schokolade and thus The Black Forest Academy of Magic began."

"Is that really true?" A Gryffindor boy asked.

Pascal shrugged. "I wasn't alive then, but part of the school_ is_ made of candy."

"It's made of candy? And nobody's eaten it yet?"

"It's been enchanted. It tastes like vomit," He said bluntly.

"How do you know what it tastes like?"

"Next question!"

The students giggled.

A Slytherin boy looked up. "Did you play Quidditch at school?"

The Professor nodded. "Seeker for my last three years"

Dean Thomas raised his hand and the Professor pointed to him. "What did you do after you graduated from school?"

"I first worked in the Wizard Law Enforcement in Germany and worked my way up to Wächter after a couple of years." He saw their puzzled faces again. "A Wächter is much like your Aurors here. I spent most of my time in the Wachter division during the First Wizarding War."

"You fought in the first war? I thought that was only going on here."

"Nein." The Professor shook his head. "Terror had spread all over Europe—literally all over the world. They were recruiting others from all over to join the dark cause."

"What'd you do after that?"

"I transferred over to the Vampire Liaison Division for a few years. I worked heavily in Southern Germany, Romania, Austria, and Bulgaria. I spent a number of years doing that until I was put on the International Task Force. I did a number of different jobs there the last one being in Tibet trying to keep Yeti areas protected from Muggle inhabitants and mountain climbers."

"Did you ever know Mad-Eye Moody?"

"Alastor Moody?" The Professor asked. "Heard a lot about him and met him a couple of times, why?"

"Well, how come you don't get one of those magic eyes like he had?"

It was a rude question as some of the students noted by slightly laughing. The Professor reached up and touched the patch over his right eye. "Those things are rare _and _expensive," He said with a chuckle.

"Do you got a wife?" A Hufflepuff boy asked.

The Professor stopped laughing and looked to the ground. "I had one—she passed—a long time ago." He looked back up. "She was Muggle-born…as you know, that wasn't a popular thing to be at the time."

The room grew silent.

He returned to his desk. "Perhaps we should move on with the lesson. Are there anymore questions before we get started?"

Nobody answered. "First, I want you to take out a sheet of parchment. I have noticed that over your course of study here at Hogwarts, that you have had seven different Professors including me. From examining the past curriculum, you all have had a spotty education and training at best. Some years were good while others were bad…"

"Lockhart…Umbridge…" Ginny muttered under her breath to Hermione.

"…I want you all to write down the areas you feel that you need improvement or perhaps even to be re-taught. Along with preparing you for your N.E.W.T exams, I want to make sure you have a solid foundation in defense."

"Will you teach usthe Patronus Charm?" A student who wasn't in the DA a couple of years ago spoke up.

Aurora fidgeted in her seat.

Pascal nodded. "Ja, but it will be difficult." He looked around the room and the eager students. "Write the things you want to learn or review down, and I will alert the lesson plans based on your comments." He took out his wand. "But first, let's get started with today's first lesson—Scarpin's Revelaspell. Before we turn to chapter one, can anyone tell me what Scarpin's Revelaspell is used for?"

Hermione's hand went into the air.

"Fraulein," He nodded to her.

"Scarpin's Revelaspell causes an object to show its hidden secrets or magical properties."

He nodded. "Good. This is a spell everyone of you should take careful time to learn. Using this spell as a habit to inspect mysterious objects will save you a lot of trouble." He walked around the room for a moment. He stopped at Luna Lovegood's desk. "May I borrow this, Fraulein?" He asked, pointing his wand at the Quibbler.

"Yes, of course. You can keep it if you like." Luna spoke up.

"That is very kind of you."

"My father is the editor. I can get another one." She said. "You're in luck. There's a spell to make sure fish don't bite your thumbs. It came in handy a couple of summers ago."

"Perfect," He said. He held up the newspaper. "Normally, I'd have to solve this crossword puzzle to figure out the spell to…protect your thumbs from fish…" He glanced down at an approving Luna for a moment then looked back towards the class. "But with this spell, I can find the answer right away." He tapped his wand against the newspaper. "Specialis Revelio!"

The answers to the crossword puzzle filled in quickly. He looked at the answer to the mystery spell. "Ichtus Anticheir. Huh." He looked back to the class. "Remember that when you go fishing." He continued weaving through the desks.

"Can someone tell me what the Scarpin's Revelaspell does not work on?" He pointed at a student without waiting for her hand to raise. "You, Frauline McGonagall."

Aurora looked up, surprised she was called upon. "To get people to tell the truth or to have them divulge some of their secrets."

"Correct!" He looked impressed.

Avalon raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Stratford?"

"It also doesn't work if Anti-cheating spells are in place or special precautions have been made to hide the information in question."

"Mr. Stratford brings up a very good point. There are spells that are strong enough to protect against Scarpin's Revelaspell. We'll be going over some of those actually later in the week."

Aurora hunched her eyebrows as she looked down at her parchment to take notes.

Professor Pascal walked back up to his desk. "Now, I have some parchment with secret messages for you all to practice this spell." He passed them to the first desk. "Take one and pass it around."

* * *

Hermione some free time before dinner, giving her enough time to have a quick homework session in the Library. The library was fairly empty these first few days due to the fact that many students were still suffering from the effects of summer and the procrastination of homework. She walked towards the back where one of her favorite tables was only to find someone sitting there. He wrote furiously in a little black book while various books were spread open around him.

"May I join you?" She asked.

Avalon looked up, a little startled. "Uh…yes…sure." He shook his head and quickly closed the book, tucking it into his messenger bag.

"What are you studying?"

"Nothing. Just a bit of notes." He started closing the books around him. "I finished my Arithmancy early so I was…" He trailed off.

Hermione pulled out her books and opened them. "Yes, the Arithmancy assignment was light today—wish I could say that about the Potions homework."

"I've made the Wolfsbane potion before so hopefully it should go smoothly again—the trick is to watch the heating carefully.

"When did you make Wolfsbane Potion?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Avalon opened another book. "With my mum. She used to school me."

Hermione looked him in the eye. "You're here now because your mother is ill, correct?"

Avalon nodded. "Yes, that's correct." He looked out the window. "There was a part of me that always wanted to come here, but I could never just leave her."

"What about your father?" Hermione asked, realizing how rude of a question that was after it slipped out of her mouth.

He looked back over at her.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me."

"It's alright. He died before I was born. It was just mum and I—I couldn't leave her alone. She always told me I could go if I wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to go."

"How did your mother get sick, if I may ask?"

"Surprised the full story wasn't in the papers. Then again, they don't seem to have a knack for telling the truth." He smirked. "When we were being chased last year, we were nearly spotted by a group of snatchers. One of them attacked with a non-verbal spell. It caused damage to her lungs—she has trouble breathing now."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. In the magazines and newspapers, he seemed like an arrogant prat, in Hogwarts he seemed shy and standoffish, but here in this moment, he was practically loquacious and open to inquiry. She decided to take her chances. "What happened to you last year? Why does everyone seem so interested in you?"

"Last year…" He started, feeling a knot come to his throat. "…mum and I were shopping in London. Death Eaters and dark followers were at the time pushing the limits of how much they could get away with. We happened to stumble upon a group of dark wizard harassing Muggles. Mum and I stepped in to protect them. We blasted them pretty badly, and they were after us ever since. There were twelve Muggles present who saw us use magic. As you know, the Ministry wasn't a safe place to take them to have their memories remodified. We had to protect them so we went on the run with them." He stopped quickly and put his hand over his eyes, acting as if he were rubbing them. "Only eight of them survived…I tried…but…I…I…couldn't save them…"

"It's alright," Hermione said, almost coming to tears herself.

"I just have something in my eye…I'm…fine…"

"Terrible things happened last year. Terrible things. Things nobody should ever have to experience."

Avalon looked up, eyes reddened.

Hermione glanced down at her book. "Harry, Ron, and I had our share of difficulties too." She closed her eyes, remembering awful things. "Some of them still haunt me in my dreams." But she looked back up, a sparkle of hope beaming in her eye. "But the light is always there. Even in the darkest hour. Love, friendship, bravery—these are the things that give us strength. These are the things that Voldemort never possessed."

Avalon slightly gasped at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, but he nodded all the same. "Yes, you are right, Hermione."

She closed her book. "You want to head down to the Great Hall early?"

He nodded, not feeling in the mood to study anymore.

They packed up their belongings and headed through the fourth floor corridors to get to the Grand Staircase. As they waited for a set of stairs to come to them, they were met by other Gryffindors heading from the seventh floor to dinner.

"Hi, Ginny. Hi, Aurora." Hermione said with a smile. Avalon smiled also to greet and was met with a smile from Ginny and cold look from Aurora. "What were you two doing this afternoon?"

"Talking Quidditch—you would have been bored," Ginny said. She glanced over at Aurora. "Aurora, really knows her stuff."

"Well, I must admit that I'm a bit partial to Ron playing as Keeper, but I'll still cheer for you, Aurora."

"That is, if I make the team." She said.

"Well, if you're at least half-way decent, you'll make the team. I don't know anyone else who's even remotely talented."

Avalon turned toward Ginny. "You play for the House team?"

Ginny nodded. "That's right—I'm captain."

"I play Quidditch too. I'd be interested in playing for Gryffindor."

Ginny glanced at Hermione and Aurora for a moment. "Well, try-outs will be probably in the next week or two. You'll have to earn the position."

He nodded. "Yes, of course."

The group of students came down into the Entrance Hall. They were met with a group of students crowed along the opposite wall where the doorway to the Entrance Courtyard stood.

"What's going on?" A student asked.

Murmurs and whispered filled the air.

Hermione surveyed the room for a moment then charged forward. "Excuse me! Excuse me! Head Girl coming through! Excuse me!" Ginny, Avalon, and Aurora followed right behind her. They came up to the Entrance door.

Written in dark red letters, the words **"GET OUT MUDBLOODS, HALF-BLOODS, AND BLOODTRAITORS! IT ISN'T OVER! YOU HAVEN'T WON!" **were etched into the door.

"Out of the way! Out of the way!" The Headmistress' voice came. The students cleared a pathway for her and the other Professors.

McGonagall gasped at the sight. "No," She shook her head, putting her hand over her mouth.

A blood-curtling scream erupted, scaring the students even further.

The Headmistress turned around to see Phaedrus Fickle with his hand over her mouth and his cheeks bright red.

"Mr. Fickle!" The Headmistress growled. "Contain yourself!"

Hagrid burrowed forward, almost knocking some of the first years over. He sniffed the air. "That's blood I smell."

"What kind of blood?" Pomona Sprout spoke up.

Horace Slughorn dug into his coat pocket and grabbed a vial. "Miss Mirkwood, take a sample back down to the dungeon and see if you cannot find the answer to that question."

The ghostly looking woman silently took the vial out of Slughorn's hand and moved forward to examine the doorway.

The Headmistress looked toward Hermione and Avalon then searched with her eyes for other student leaders. "Prefects, gather your houses and take them back to the dormitories. Dinner will be sent to the common rooms tonight."

"Yes, Professor, "Hermione said. "Gryffindor! Head back to the Dormitory! Follow me!

Aurora lingered behind for a moment, inching herself closer to her aunt. She waited patiently for the other teachers to finish their words with the Headmistress before she stepped in. "Aunt Minerva…"

The Headmistress turned toward her niece. "Aurora, you should be heading back to the dormitory…"

"But…"

"No, buts, you need…" She stopped seeing the fear in the girl's eyes. "You'll be safe. I promise." She took the girl into her arms. "I imagine it is the doing of some student—playing a cruel joke." Her voice rattled with anger that she tried to control. "You'll be safe." She looked to Professor Pascal. "Will you escort Miss McGonagall back to Gryffindor Tower and make sure no students have lagged behind?"

Pascal nodded. "Yes, Professor."

McGonagall turned back to the door and put her hand over her mouth and solemnly examined the words dripping in blood.


	8. Weasleys in Hogsmeade

Chapter Eight

**Weasleys in Hogsmeade **

"Blimey this is bad," Ron said, reading through the newest letter from Hermione. "Who do you think could have done something like that?" He asked while lying on his bed.

Harry was sitting on his bed. His bare feet hovered just above the cold floor that Saturday morning. He shook his head in response. "I don't know, Ron."

Ron kept reading. "I'm surprised it's not in the Prophet." He continued to read. "At least everyone's okay though."

Harry nodded again, his thoughts distracted.

As Ron continued to read, a small grin started to appear on his face. Faint giggles started to escape from his lips.

"You alright, Ron?" Harry looked over at him.

"Yeah," Ron said with a big smirk.

"What's the rest of the letter say?"

"That's none of your business," Ron grinned widely.

Harry stood up off his bed. "Well, I leave you and the letter alone for awhile." He walked over to the closet and grabbed some clothes.

"Oh, come off it!" Ron rolled onto his backside and stared up at the ceiling. He continued to lay like that while Harry got dressed. "You regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Not going back, you know—to Hogwarts."

Harry pondered for a moment before he zipped up his hooded sweatshirt. "A little." He pulled up the zipper then turned to Ron. "But were doing what we've always wanted to do."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," He said with an airy sigh. "But I miss Her…" He stopped himself short.

"Sorry? What was that?" Harry asked, trying to keep himself from grinning.

"Uh…Herbology…I miss Herbology."

"Herbology?" Harry looked quizzical. "You were dread awful at Herbology."

"I was dread awful at _everything_, Harry." He said with a laugh.

Harry headed towards the door. "_You_ said it—not _me_."

"Where you going?"

"Out for a walk. Care to join?"

Ron glanced over at the clock. "It's 11:15." He glanced back at Harry. "You know I don't get out of bed until noon on Saturdays."

"Suit yourself then." He headed out the door.

Ron rearranged himself in his bed to find a comfortable position. He set Hermione's letter down on the nightstand next to his bed, but he found himself picking it up again to admire the airy and circular quality of Hermione's handwriting.

Harry shuffled down the stairs and out the door of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. There were a decent amount of customers in the store, but it was George's shift along with some new staffers. Diagon Alley had improved over the summer. People were starting to come back to shop, stores that were boarded up were now re-opened, and new kiosks were springing up everywhere. It was slightly chilly that morning so Harry threw his hood up over his head. He was able to hide his recognizable hair, face, and scar to some extent and move around the alley in freedom. His interest first peaked in seeing the new Quidditch gear that was for sale in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Of course he already owned a Firebolt and he wouldn't be playing Quidditch anymore, but it wouldn't hurt to look he reasoned to himself. He spent a great deal of time admiring the latest brooms and chatting with the owner about his predictions for the World Cup next summer. He left only with a bottle of broom oil and was proud of himself for having such restraint. He wandered from store to store looking at whatever interested him: books to help with his Auror training at Flourish and Blotts, he stopped by the Daily Prophet office and bought a paper, and even went into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions out of curiosity.

He continued up the street, stopping at a large glass window. Inside, a small white owl stood upon a perch with its wing spread as it picked through its feathers. It seemed to notice Harry watching, and it quickly turned its head towards the window, flashing its bright yellow eyes in Harry's direction.

A rush of hot emotion flooded Harry as people continued to walk up and down the street. He stood still, as if the world had stopped, and put his hand upon the glass. "Hedwig," He said, just barely above a whisper. His glasses began to fog up. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity.

"Harry Potter, it is good to see you again."

Harry reached up quickly to clean his glasses before he turned around. "Mrs. Stratford," He looked surprised. "What are you doing here?" He blushed after such a rude question. "I mean…"

She smiled. "You mean, _what's an old sick lady doing out of bed_?"

"Something like that," He said, feeling as though he could take his chances and tease her a bit.

"I have my good days, and my bad days." She said looking up into the bright blue sky before meeting his eyes. "This would be one of my good days." She started to walk and Harry followed alongside her. "I needed fresh air."

"I understand perfectly."

"Would you care to join me for lunch?" She asked.

Harry thought about the article. "I'd love to, but I need to run back home to get something."

She nodded. "That's quite fine. Let's place an order then you can go get whatever it is you need.

They headed into the Leaky Cauldron and took seats at a table in the corner. They were greeted by Tom and placed their orders. As planned, Harry ran back to his room to get the newspaper article. Ron turned over in his bed and glanced at Harry confused. He watched Harry hastily leave the room. He shrugged and went back to sleep.

Harry ran back to the Leaky Cauldron excitedly. He quickly sat down in the booth and passed the article across the table. "Mrs. Stratford, can you tell me about this?"

Blue eyes saddened as she looked upon the article. Both hands gingerly reached out and pulled it closer towards her. "Ah, yes," She breathed. "Where did you find this?"

"I was cleaning out an old room in one of the buildings here on Diagon Alley." Harry said. "It was above Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

"I'm just surprised. It was so long ago," She said. "Almost twenty years."

"Is he related to you?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "Yes, he was my husband's younger brother." She pointed to a thick and burly man with long red hair and a beard. "This was Lancelot. He was the oldest brother." Her finger moved to the next boy. He had shaggy brown hair and a sweet smile. "And Gawain." Her finger moved the last boy with spiky blonde hair. "And this was my husband, Percival."

"They all look so different. I would have never guessed they were brothers."

Krista chuckled. "That's the Stratford family. They are famous for being the descendants of Merlin, being extraordinarily gifted with magic, and also having lots of sons who are radically different from one another."

"And the youngest?" Harry questioned, looking at the boy in the casket.

"Dagomir," Krista filled in. "He was a likable boy. Such a smart aleck…" She laughed while coming to tears. "It broke Percival's heart." She took a moment to compose herself. "He was in Slytherin House during the rise of You-Know-You. Naturally, they would want a family with such a pure-blood history such as Stratfords."

"He refused and was killed for it."

She nodded. "Yes. Dagomir and some of the Slytherins had an argument about pure-blood supremacy. Their wands came out, and Dag was killed in the process." She sighed. "All the brothers met similar fates since they refused to join You-Know-Who."

"Even your husband?" Harry asked.

She nodded, solemnly. "Yes, he was next. Avalon wasn't even born yet. In fact, he never knew about Avalon…" She again fought tears.

"I'm sorry…it must be awfully painful to speak about…"

She shook her head. "If anyone understands the pain of these wars—it's you Harry." She composed herself again. "They came to our house looking for Percival. Naturally, he refused to join them and a duel broke out. He told me to run but I couldn't leave him behind…"

Harry shifted in his seat as she fought to tell him the story.

"We ran and barricaded ourselves in the bedroom. As they attempted to blast their way into the room, Percival…he…he…put me under the Imperius Curse. He forced me run away. Minutes later the curse was lifted and I knew…I knew he was dead. I went into hiding after that."

"How did you run? You know, in your condition at the time..." He blushed at the lack of words.

A grateful look washed over her face. "When I discovered I was with child, I was truly frightened for that reason. I didn't know how I would survive, but I had entered into a little village to find food, a Muggle couple saw my condition and took me into their home. I stayed with them until after the war. When I left their home, I went looking for my brothers-in-law—Lancelot and Gawain—but the war had claimed them also."

"Only you and your son survived?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I'm so sorry…I…" Harry lost his words. The story sounded so frightfully familiar to his own.

"The world rejoiced when the man responsible for all this pain was defeated." She nodded towards him. "But I know that was a terrible price you had to pay."

Harry only nodded.

"I did not know Lily and James well, but I knew of them. We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

Harry glanced up, his eyes hungry for information.

"Your parents were Gryffindors, but Percival and I were in Ravenclaw. I tutored at the library and so did your mother. She was always very kind. I liked her. I didn't know James so well except for the fact that he was a trouble-maker. Percival, though, played him in Quidditch. He hated playing Gryffindor in school for that reason. I hear that you're pretty fair at Quidditch yourself."

Harry only smiled and shrugged.

Their lunches were brought to the table. They ceased their heavy discussion in the presence of the waitress, and did not continue it as they ate.

* * *

The two of them stood alone in front of the doorway of the Entrance Hall. Before Filch was allowed to clean it, careful examination of the crime scene was to take place. The Head Mistress stood in front of the door pondering over the meaning as students cautiously walked past for breakfast. Next to her, Professor Pascal stood with his arms behind his back and his stance firm as he looked upon the scene.

"When will it end, Leopold?" She said with a heavy sigh.

He only stood quiet as he glazed upon the bloody message of hatred.

"Professor," Hermione gingerly walked up.

McGonagall turned and faced the Head Girl. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I was wondering if you have discovered anything…you know…about…" She nodded towards the doorway. "The students are frightened."

"I'll be addressing that this morning after breakfast," She said. "I'm waiting for a team from the Ministry to examine the crime scene before a definite plan is formed."

"I see," She said. She turned towards the door and gazed upon it with the two professors.

"Tell me, Minerva, of what does this remind you?" Pascal spoke up.

"The Chamber of Secrets threats," Hermione blurted out.

"Very good, Miss Granger." Minerva said, thinking along the same lines.

"Do you think it was a copy then?" Hermione glanced over at Professor Pascal. "Some student who wasn't very original, you might say."

Pascal nodded with a large smirk. "You're very bright."

Hermione smiled and glanced towards her feet.

"Whether this is a joke or not, this threat will be taken very seriously," McGonagall said coldly.

"I think we should head into the Great Hall. I'm going to run ahead and check on the Gryffindors." Professor Pascal departed from them into the Great Hall.

Hermione and the Headmistress lingered behind slowing making their way to the golden doors to the Great Hall.

"Professor," Hermione called gingerly.

"Hmm, yes, Miss Granger?" She replied.

"When Aurora returned back to the Common Room last night, she seemed awfully frightened. Is she…"

McGonagall gave a deep sigh. "Her father was a Muggle. He died because of this nonsense—right before her eyes."

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry about your niece and her husband—Aurora's parents."

"Thank you for your sympathies, Miss Granger."

The two entered the Great Hall together. Hermione headed off towards the Gryffindor table while the Headmistress marched to the front of the room and took her place at the high table.

Ginny looked over as Hermione sat down. "What's going on?"

Hermione nodded towards the high table. "McGonagall's going to make a speech during breakfast." She poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and grabbed some toast.

Aurora came in soon after looking down towards her feet with a hurried pace.

"Are you alright?" Avalon looked up from writing in a notebook.

She looked up, eyes reddened. "I'm fine," she snapped before sitting down. She kept her face down towards her plate and away from the others.

Hermione first exchanged glances with Avalon before looking towards Aurora. But it was just then that the Headmistress called for attention.

It took a few moments to silence the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall waited for it to be good and silent before she cleared her throat to speak. All eyes in the room were upon her.

"As all of you know, a disturbing event has occurred recently upon our grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A most troubling message has been written upon the entrance doors with what has been discovered to be feline blood. We have reason to believe that this crime has been committed by one of our very own students." She spoke firmly and paused for a moment. "The perpetrator was likely mimicking the acts of previous events seven years ago during the second opening of the Chamber of Secrets." A large lump came to her throat and she paused again. "This action…is no joke…it is no laughing matter…there are some here who probably think this crime was humorous, but let me tell you…if I find out who did this…" She gritted through her teeth.

"Minerva," Professor Pascal gently called out.

She stopped herself. "…the Ministry of Magic will be arriving later this morning to examine the scene of the crime. If any of you have information pertaining to this incident, please report to your Head of House. Thank you." The Headmistress turned wearily from the owl podium and headed back to the high table.

* * *

After his lunch with Krista Stratford, Harry didn't return to the shop, but rather, he traveled out of Diagon Alley and into London. He spent the day riding the trains and subway system alone. His mind was on replay—he couldn't help but notice the shocking similarities between himself and the story of the Stratfords. Like himself, Avalon had lost his family to Voldemort and his followers. Except the fact that Avalon still had his mother, they were one and the same. As the sun started to set, Harry returned to Diagon Alley and entered the shop.

"Hullo," Ron said, preoccupied with tallying the register.

"Hi," Harry said, somewhat solemnly.

Ron looked up. "You alright, mate? I was starting to worry about you."

Harry nodded. "I'm fine." Harry started to head upstairs, but Ron called out to him again.

"You've got a delivery."

"What?"

Ron nodded his head towards the corner of the room. "Yeah, it came this afternoon. I think you better go see what it is."

In the corner of the room, a rich purple colored cloth covered up a large package. Harry glanced back over at Ron. "Did you already see what it was?"

"I might have," Ron shrugged with a smirk.

Harry grasped the cloth and yanked it down. Inside a large golden cage, a baby snowy owl slept peacefully. It seemed to notice that it was being watched however and perked up. "This came for me?" He opened the caged and reached in his hand. The baby owl stepped off its perch into Harry's hand. He pulled the little white ball out of the cage. The baby bird cuddled against Harry's chest.

Ron came over. "I took him out and played with him a bit. He's a lot more friendly than…" He stopped himself.

Hedwig, Harry would say, was not necessarily unfriendly, but she was a very proud and regal bird. This little bird, however, was very friendly and cuddly, much like a cat. "Was there a note?"

Ron shook his head. "No note."

Harry sighed with a smirk on his face. "Mrs. Stratford." He turned towards Ron. "She saw me looking at him earlier today."

"Why would she buy you an owl?"

"I don't know. Maybe she felt sorry for me?"

Ron stood silent for a moment. "I wish more people felt sorry for_ me_," He said with a smirk.

"I feel sorry for you all the time,"

"Shut it!"

The bell attached to the door jingled. "Hey! Hey!" George busted into the room with a swagger. "How's my best brother? And my best brother's best mate?"

"What's with you?"

"I'll tell you what's with me!" George said. "But first, I've got some butterbeers!" He said, putting them out of his pockets.

"You're in a good mood," Harry put his new owl back in the cage as he looked over at George.

"You bet I am!"

"Well, are you going to tell us or not?" Ron asked, reaching out for a butterbeer.

The bell on the door jingled again and the three boys quieted down. They all stood a bit dumbfounded as the new Minister of Magic closed the door behind him.

"Kingsley…Mister…Minister…" Ron stuttered a bit. "What are you doing here?"

His tall build frame stood high above the others, but a warm smile washed across his face at the sight of the three boys in front of him. "It is good to see you all again,"

Harry nodded. "And you too, Minister."

Kingsley waved his hand. "Just Kingsley. We're all friends here."

"What can we do for you?" Ron asked.

"Butterbeer?" George handed him one.

"Thank you," Kingsley took the butterbeer and drank some before he spoke again. "There has been an incident at Hogwarts…"

"We know," Harry said.

"No doubt Miss Granger has informed you then." Kingsley nodded his head. "Then you must know why I'm here."

Ron and Harry glanced at one another then back to the Minister.

"I want you two to head back to the school and watch over it."

Ron looked puzzled. "Why us? We're not even a month into Auror training."

"Exactly," Kingsley said. "I don't want to raise too much suspicion by sending Aurors into the area. But perhaps Aurors-in-training will be just enough presence to investigate the situation." He looked at Harry and Ron. "Besides, I trust you too more than some of our fully trained Aurors."

"You don't think what happened was a prank then? You think it's really serious?" Ron asked.

"I don't know what to think yet. Perhaps it's some Hogwarts student a little bitter about this summers events or perhaps it really is a warning that things are not over. We cannot take any chances though considering recent events. I want you two in the area to pick up any clues that you can. I also want it to be kept discreet."

"How we going to do that?" Ron asked.

"Easy," George piped up.

Everyone looked at him. "What you do you mean?" Harry asked.

George grinned ear to—well, to where the other ear should be. "I was needing to hire some more employees to run our new branch at Hogsmeade, but I think you chaps could do the job just fine."

Kingsley smiled brightly. "Perfect!"

"What?" Ron looked confused.

"You both can go to Hogsmeade under the rouse of working for the business but really be working under cover for the Ministry," George said triumphantly.

"You bought Zonko's?" Ron exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I _was_ going to until Kingsley busted in here."

"This is very good," Harry said. "We can go up to the castle often. We'll just say that we're going up to visit Hermione and Ginny. Nobody will be the wiser about what we're doing there."

Kingsley looked at the three boys. "It is agreed then. Harry and Ron will go to Hogsmeade and investigate matters further."

George popped open his butterbeer. "Stay for the celebrations, Kingsley?"

The Minister shook his head. "No, I must be going. It will be a late night in the office."

"When should we start?" Harry asked.

"Monday," Kingsley said, grasping the door handle. He almost exited before he turned around and stuck his head back inside. "I almost forgot. I'll be having another wizard join you two in your mission."

"Who?" Ron asked.

"You don't know him." Kingsley said. "Just meet me at the Three Broomsticks on Monday at 9 in the morning. I'll introduce you then." He turned around and left.

* * *

Ginny was wrapped up in a long pink bathrobe as she sat in front of the mirror brushing her long red hair. She started at the top with her brush and gently stroked downwards. Her little pygmy puff, Arnold, sat happily and watched her upon the dresser.

Hermione came into the room with her toothbrush after brushing her teeth with spearmint toothpaste. She tucked her toiletries away and leapt onto her bed. "Where's Crookshanks?"

"Over here?" Aurora called from her bed while reading a book. She was already dressed for bed in her small white tee-shirt and flannel trousers. The orange cat was cuddled up next to her, but at the sound of his name, he got up and headed over towards Hermione's bed.

Ginny finished brushing her hair and headed over to her bed. She plopped down and started to crawl under the covers. "Oh, I nearly forgot!" She dived down under her bed and reached into her school bag. She pulled out a fairly large brown package. "Mum sent me a package." She tore into it while Hermione and Aurora turned their eyes toward it. Ginny looked over the contents. She had forgotten a school book at home and had borrowing one all week for Transfiguration, a small bag of homemade fudge from Mum, a piece of Muggle money from dad, and a copy of Charmed magazine that showed up at the Burrow instead of Hogwarts.

"I've really got to cancel my subscription." Ginny said, picking up the magazine. "_Fabulous Hair-do Spells for this Witching Season_!" She read aloud. "_Wrong Robes for your Body Type? Take our Quiz to find out! 56 Ways to Attract a Boy without a Love Potion!" _

"Sounds like an intellectual stimulation," Hermione muttered.

"Well, I wouldn't be so sarcastic, Hermione." Ginny said, playfully as she flipped through the magazine. "Maybe one of these 56 tips could help you—_Impress him with your smile_."

"What if you're missing a few teeth?" Aurora asked.

"Then you'll always have the love potion to resort back to," Ginny said.

"Yeah, right," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't be caught dead trying to use a love potion."

"I'd have to agree with you there." Aurora said.

Ginny continued to look at the magazine. "You have a boyfriend, Aurora?"

The girl glanced up. "No."

"Have you ever?"

Aurora nodded. "Two. One of them went to Hogwarts."

"Who was it?" Both Hermione and Ginny sat up eagerly.

"Jason Samuels. He was in…"

"…Ravenclaw," Hermione interrupted. "He wasn't too bad looking."

"No, he wasn't," Aurora said with a smirk. "He's three years older than I am—mum and dad weren't too keen about that." She shrugged her shoulders. "We played summer Quidditch league together for years. It obviously didn't work out."

"What about the other?"

"Home-schooler like I was. His name was Thaddeus Robinson."

"Never heard of him," Ginny said. "Sure he isn't fake?"

"Pretty sure," Aurora said.

Hermione sat quietly as she pondered for a moment. "Do you like anyone now?"

Aurora jerked her head over towards Hermione. "No," She said, almost forcefully.

Hermione hid a smirk as she looked away.

"Oh, look," Ginny said. "_Celebrity Interview with Avalon Stratford—the Inside Access_!" She read with an airy voice. "Wonder what this will have to say." She read the article aloud.

_**Interview with Avalon Stratford**_

_**Dashing Hero and Wizard Heartthrob talks about Quidditch, Dreams, girls, and more…**_

_ **1. What is your favorite band? **_

_ That's a tie between the Weird Sisters and Cauldron Hex _

_ **2. What is your dream job?**_

_ To be a Spell Inventor _

_ **3. What is your favorite food? **_

_Fish and chips_

_ **4. What was the last spell you used?**_

_Summoning spell—I couldn't find my trainers_

_** 5. What did you dream about last night?**_

_I was running through open fields of grass _

_** 6. What's the last thing you purchased? **_

_A book_

_** 7. What is your favorite sport?**_

_Most definitely Quidditch_

_**8. Who is your best–friend?**_

_Mercury—my pet falcon_

_**9. What is your favorite color? **_

_Probably blue—I don't really care_

_**10. If you could visit one country, where would it be? **_

_ Greece_

_**11. What are your hobbies?**_

_Quidditch, Reading, Flying a broomstick_

_**12. What's the first thing you notice about a girl? **_

_Her eyes_

_**13. What is your middle name?**_

_ Percival _

_**What is your secret talent? **_

_It wouldn't be a secret then, would it?_

_**15. Do you have any tattoos? **_

_ No—-should I get one?_

"Well, that seemed pretty normal," Hermione said.

Ginny shrugged and turned the page. "Yeah, I suppose. I don't know how they would have twisted any of that to their purposes."

"I wish everyone would shut up about him already," Aurora said.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but a small tapping came to the window before she could say anything. She got up from her bed and opened the window. A barn owl sat on the window sill with a letter in its mouth. It was addressed in a messy, but very familiar, handwriting to her. She took the letter from the owl, closed the window, and crossed the room back to her bed as she read it.

"What is it?" Ginny looked concerned.

Hermione looked up with a bright smile. "Harry and Ron are coming!"


	9. Rumors and Gossip

Chapter Nine

**Rumors and Gossip**

The weekend seemed like a long time to wait. Harry and Ron would be arriving this afternoon to Hogwarts with Kingsley Shacklebolt and other Ministry officials to examine the crime scene further before Filch would be allowed to clean it. As she sat in Ancient Runes, already finished with her homework, she sat admiring the letter she received from Ron concerning the details of his mission. It was a short letter, hastily scratched, but it demonstrated that he was thinking of her enough to take a spare moment to write. It almost made her blush just thinking about it. She figured, however, that she should probably put her letter away and get a head start on her Potions essay. She exchanged books from her bag and unrolled her parchment that she had already labeled for the assignment. "Ethical Considerations Involving Polyjuice Potion…" She mouthed to herself with a smirk spread across her face. This would be an easy assignment.

Before she began to write, she glanced up for a moment, looking forward a couple of seats in the row next to her. He clearly was finished with his Runes assignment also because he spent his time furiously writing in that little black notebook of his. She set her quill down for a moment and propped her head up under her fist. He continued, oblivious, to the world for the next few minutes only occasionally glancing at a library book on his desk.

"That'll be all for today," Professor Babbling spoke up. "Make sure you complete your translation assignments and start reading chapter two for next session." The class filtered out of the room, not paying much attention to her instructions.

As Hermione gathered up her books, Avalon walked by with a large stack in his arms. She looked up, glancing at the titles, reading them aloud. "_A Guide to Medieval Sorcery. Theories of Charms. _And of course—a light read_— A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter."_

He shrugged heavily with the books in his arms. "Pleasure reading."

"Oh, and _Quidditch Throughout the Ages_." She said, looking at the book at the bottom. "That's one of Ron's favorites."

"Academic endeavors," He said with a smirk.

She finished packing and began to walk out of the classroom with him. "So you hope to become a Spell Inventor someday?"

His eyes bulged. "How did you…"

"I saw your magazine article," She interrupted with a smirk.

His nose wrinkled which made her laugh. "Which one?" He asked.

"The latest one in _Charmed _magazine."

"Oh," He said, disdainfully. "I'm surprised they got it right this time. They usually say _Hit Wizard_ or _Minister of Magic_ or _Complete Prat._"

Hermione chucked for a moment. "What made you want to be a Spell Inventor?"

They weaved through a crowd of students before he answered her. "My dad was a Spell Inventor—but it's not just that." He paused in front of a window looking towards the bright blue sky. "Magic has been used to do all sorts of awful things—terrible and horrible things. There are all sorts of evil and vile things wizards and witches have done to one another." He looked back towards her, locking eyes with her. "I don't think the beauty and wonder of magic has been explored enough. I think we have only just scratched the surface of its potential." He held up his wand and gave it a sharp flick. Out from his wand stemmed a bouquet of beautiful flowers. He handed them to her.

She nodded slowly as she took the flowers. She had seen the darkness of magic—especially over the past year: horcruxes, unforgivable curses, vile potions, and cruel intentions. If only so much energy would have been channeled for good, what could have been possible she pondered while smelling the sweet essence of the flowers.

He took a deep and refreshing breath. "Shall we head off to Herbology?"

She nodded with a smile.

The two of them continued through the castle, walking by a group of third year girls. They turned their heads as the two walked by and began to chatter furiously after the two were gone.

* * *

It was an usually brisk and chilly morning in Hogsmeade as the three of them shivered in the morning air. The Three Broomsticks was empty at such a time as nine in the morning. Madame Rosmerta, setting up shop behind the counter, greeted them with a smile. "What'll be, boys?"

"Just a butterbeer for me," Harry said, taking a seat at a wooden table up front.

"No breakfast?" She asked to which he shook his head.

Ron, feeling a little resentful being called a boy, swaggered up to the counter and put his elbow down on it. "And I'll have a firewhisky…"

"No, you won't!" Rosmerta snapped. "It's nine in the mornin'!"

"Yes, ma'am." Ron sat down defeated.

"Butterbeer, please." George took a seat.

"And what will you be havin', dear?" She looked at back of Ron's head.

"Butterbeer," He mumbled.

It was just then that the door rang and in came the Minister himself. He looked tired around the eyes but energetic and enthused none the less. He removed his purple hat and outer robe, hanging them on the coat tree, before stepping out of the doorway.

Behind him was the most massive person Harry had ever seen that still probably would not classify as having giant or troll blood in him. He was very tall, having to stoop over to enter. His arms were long and thick. His feet, covered in black combat boots, clanked against the wooden floor. His brown hair was short and buzzed off but his eyebrows were thick and dark.

Harry and Ron's eyes bulged at the sight of him, and swore that he almost heard George squeak. "He looks a like Green Beret," Harry whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"What's a Green Beret?" Ron whispered back, not familiar with the Royal Marines.

"Nevermind," Harry kept his eyes on the large stranger He didn't look that old at all, not more than a few years older than himself, but he was most certainly fed a lot more than Harry ever was as a child.

"Ah, thank you, Madame," The Minister said after giving his order to Rosmerta. He took a seat down at the table with the three. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Thor Reid." He motioned to the large man behind him that didn't need a motion towards. "He'll be working with you on this assignment."

"Oh, wonderful," Ron said with a smile. When he had a chance when Madame Rosmerta came with the drinks, he turned to Harry. "I'm not sharing a bunk bed with him!"

"Who said anything about bunk beds?" Harry asked, confused.

"One gillywater for the Minister, three butterbeers for the boys, and a firewhisky for Mr. Reid," She said as she placed the drinks in front of them.

Ron was about to protest until he saw Thor pick up his glass, drink in one fell swoop, and show no signs of being affected by the strong drink. He stared agape, pointing at the large man.

Harry reached out and put Ron's arm down. "Anyway, Minister, what is it that you'd like us to do today?"

"Well, first," He nodded to George. "Mr. Weasley will need to set up shop as soon as possible. I want you three to also help him. I will send a Ministry maintenance crew to also help with the endeavor. While the three of you run the shop, I want you to keep an eye out for suspicious activity."

Ron finally found some courage to speak again. "Kingsley, why us? I still don't understand it."

"Who was it, tell me, who discovered all by themselves that You-Know-Who was after the Sorcerer's Stone? And who was it who unraveled the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets—saving a girl's life? And who was it that kept…"

"Alright, alright, we get it," Ron said.

"I'm frankly astonished, and a bit flattered, you'd put so much trust in us," Harry said.

"I know good men and women when I see them. And besides, you've more than proven yourselves." After taking a sip of his drink, he set the glass down firmly and stood up. "I want you all to come up to the castle with me to examine the crime scene. After that, you can set to work on the shop. I'm sure the Ministry crew will have started by then."

Almost as fast as they had arrived, they were leaving for a trip up to the castle. Ron quickly chugged his butterbeer while George and Harry left theirs behind. The Minister graciously paid for everyone's drinks and they left the Three Broomsticks to begin their work.

* * *

Mid-afternoons on Mondays were a joyous treat to her. She finished her last class at two in the afternoon and did not have any obligations until dinner time. She supposed later in the semester this time would get filled with homework, but for now, there wouldn't be any harm in going outside for a few hours. Clutched in her hand was one of her most prized possessions—her broomstick.

"And _where_ are_ you_ going?"

Flinching from guilt, Aurora slowly turned around at the sound of a most familiar voice. "Aunt…Professor…I…er…" She blushed under the watchful gaze of her stern Aunt.

McGonagall, however, looked down at the broomstick in Aurora's hands. The gleam of the golden logo still flickered brightly. "I remember when I gave this to you."

"I was ten." Aurora smiled, remembering the joy of that moment. She rubbed her thumb over the Nimbus Two-Thousand label. "It was the best present ever."

"I'm glad to see its still in good condition." McGonagall said, almost flinching at the thought of Harry's broom being smashed by the Whomping Willow. "Then again, girls usually take better care of their possessions than boys."

Aurora looked confused but didn't say anything. She did not know that her Aunt had also bought Harry Potter a broomstick also at the same time.

"I suppose I should go back inside and finish my essay…"

"Unless your conscious is guilty, don't let me stop you, Miss McGonagall."

Aurora bit her lip for a moment. Her conscious wasn't saying anything until her Aunt reminded her of it, and she was trying really hard to drown its voice out with the joyous feeling of flying.

Up the stairs came a group of students fresh out of class. Aurora caught sight of the Slytherin boy who showed much interest in her. She had hoped he didn't see her, but it proved to be fruitless as he seemed to be heading in her direction.

"Something wrong?" The Headmistress asked, noting the panicked look that washed over Aurora's face.

"I have to go." She backed away. "You know, I think I will finish that essay on Dittany. I'll just be heading back to the Common Room."

The Headmistress looked absolutely confused as her niece ran away. She was soon joined by an equally confused Cain Rigel carrying his school books. The Professor looked at the boy for a moment, seeing his disappointed face. "Afternoon, Mr. Rigel."

He seemed a little dazed. "Afternoon, Professor." He said. He walked away looking a bit saddened.

Minerva pondered for a moment at the unusual circumstance until it dawned on her. "Oh!" She gasped. Her niece had a crush on a Slytherin.

* * *

Harry, Ron, the Minister, and massive Thor Reid stood in a line looking at the doorway to the Entrance Courtyard. The message, and threat, was still there in dark read letters staring back at them. Each wondered, as they stared upon it, if this was to be taken serious or not. Was it a joke? An angry ranting? A threat? Or a true warning?

Harry stepped forward, feeling his resolve firming. "Mr. Minister, we will do everything in our power to find out who did this."

"I know you will."

"Kingsley!" The Headmistress called out.

"Good to see you, Minerva," He said while greeting her with a kiss on each cheek. "Are you well?"

The Headmistress looked to the door. "No, not after this."

"Understandable." The Minister nodded. "But we do have precautions in place to which I mentioned in my letter…"

McGonagall nodded, stopping him from saying anything further. She turned to Harry and Ron, who had looked like they aged so much in her eyes in the past couple of months. "Potter. Weasley," was the only thing she managed to say, but her emerald green eyes sparkled.

"Professor," They said in unison.

She took a deep breath and folded her hands together. "I suppose you both would like to join us for dinner tonight?"

Ron eyes glazed over thinking of all the delicious things that would likely be on the menu tonight. Harry answered for the both of them, saying that they would attend.

"Of course, your acquaintance is also welcome," McGonagall looked to Thor. "And you also Minister."

Kingsley shook his head. "Afraid I can't. Perhaps another night." He rolled up his purple sleeves. "Afraid I need to be getting back to London." He looked to Harry, Ron, and Thor. "This is where I'll leave you. Perhaps a stroll around the castle—you know, for _old times sake_—will do you a bit of good?" He said with a suspicious glint in his eye.

Harry nodded, realizing that he was supposed to look for clues.

"What good would that do?" Ron asked.

A muffled growling noise came from Thor's direction and Ron instantly quieted down.

Kingsley walked away and McGonagall turned to the three young Aurors in her presence. "I do say that you should take the Minister's advice and have a walk before dinner. Good exercise. I bit you farewell." She nodded and walked away.

"I wonder where we should get started," Harry pondered aloud when it was just the three of them.

"How about upstairs?" Ron suggested.

"Downstairs," Thor, speaking for the first time, said with a growl.

"Downstairs it is!" Ron gulped.

The three of them spread out, keeping their wands close, started to make their way around the room.

There was a gasp at the top of the stairs leading to the Grand Staircase. Ron looked up. "Hermione," He gasped, breathlessly.

"Ron," She said, hardly above a whisper.

Harry stood staring for a moment while his two best-friends were staring at one another. He pushed his glasses up his nose while watching the reaction on Ron's face very carefully. He was painfully reminded that he did not have things sorted out with Ginny as clearly as they probably should be. His stomach started to churn. He suddenly felt a quick thump on his shoulder. Thor pointed towards an exit off the entrance hall that led downstairs. They left Ron behind.

It wasn't until after Harry and Thor descended down the stairs that Ron raced up to Hermione, jumping two steps at time, to catch her in his arms. She dropped her school bag—books, quills, and parchment flying all over the place as he spun her around.

"Ronald!" She scolded with a gasp, trying to fight a fit of giggles.

After he finished twirling her around one more time, he set her down with a large grin on his face. "So where's this _World's Greatest Snog_ you promised me the next time we saw each other?"

She blushed, remembering a recent letter she had sent him. "I didn't expect it to be so soon."

"Well, it is—_so_—what are you going to do about it?"

Hermione turned around, hearing faint voices of students approaching. "Not here. It's too…we can't…its school rules…you know…"

Ron looked disappointed but he slightly nodded in acceptance. "Alright, Hermione, I und…"

"Oh, to hell with it!" Hermione lunged forward and captured Ron in a passionate kiss.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed, surprised that she had cursed, once he had a moment of breath.

She put her hand under his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Shut up and kiss me."

"Alright," He shrugged his shoulders with a big grin and followed her command.

They managed to break away just before students started pouring into the entrance hall. She straightened her robes and raised her head regally. "No spell work outside designated areas!" She hollered to a third year boy looking ready to jinx someone. She gently cleared her throat. "Good day, Ronald." She started to walk away.

"Hermione?"

"Yes," She turned around still looking rather regal and sophisticated.

He pointed down to the floor. "You forgot your bag,"

"Oh, yes." She turned a furious shade of scarlet red.

* * *

It was in the teachers lounge before dinner that the Headmistress was to speak to her faculty about some of the plans that the Minister had laid before her. As she rehearsed what exactly it was she was going to say to them, other thoughts interrupted her concentration. She sighed deeply as she walked down the corridor, oblivious to the greetings from many of the portraits. It seemed like only yesterday that her niece was a little girl, dangling off her broomstick to show her tricks. Of course, the Headmistress smiled as she pondered upon this, it seemed only like yesterday also that the girl's mother was just a young child turning her first teacup into a mouse.

It still was a few minutes before the meeting so she wasn't surprised to find the lounge mostly empty. Professor Vector sat at one of the tables in deep concentration mouthing the numbers she was trying to add up in her head. Madame Hooch was over at the kitchen area brewing herself a drink while surprisingly Professor Trelawney sat, looking rather out of place, having tea with Pomona Sprout. Madame Pince the Librarian, and Madame Pomfrey the Nurse also sat at the same table playing a game of cards. The Headmistress wearily sat down.

"Everything all right, Minerva? You're looking a bit pale. Sure you're not coming down with something?" Madame Pomfrey examined the Headmistress carefully before laying any cards down.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." The Headmistress insisted.

"Sounds like the sigh of the deep distressed, crying out to be heard. The Inner Eye can see the emotions that one tries so desperately to hide."

Everyone glanced over at Trelawney as she said this casually and matter-of-factly. She shrugged and took a sip of her tea.

"Is something wrong?" Professor Sprout asked. "Is it about the message on the door…"

"No, I'll get to that later." Minerva waved her hand while shaking her head. "It's not about any of that right now…"

"Then, pray tell us, what is it?" Madame Pince said.

"Yes, Minerva, tell us," Pomfrey added before her cards started screaming at her to make a move. She shot her hand of cards a dirty look, and they quieted down.

Professor McGonagall gave a deep sigh. "It's Aurora."

"Is something the matter with the girl?" Madame Hooch joined the conversation with her cup of tea.

"She seems a bit distracted, but not any more than I'd expect her to be after what the poor dear has been through. Her grades have been well in my class, and she seems to get along fair enough with the other students." Professor Sprout said.

"Yes, she's taken a real liking to Miss Granger and Miss Weasley," Madame Pince said. "I see them studying together in the library."

"So then, what's the matter?" Professor Vector looked up from her work.

McGonagall gave another sigh. "She's in love—or at least falling in it."

There were an instantaneous "awes" from the professors. They all circled up around the Headmistress and leaned in closer.

"So who's the lucky young man?" Madame Pomfrey set down her cards which started to yell at her again.

McGonagall nodded for a moment, pondering the wonder of it all. "Cain Rigel."

"Cain Rigel?" Professor Sprout questioned. "He's a sixth year—and a Slytherin." She looked over at the Headmistress, biting her lip.

"Yes," McGonagall said darkly.

"Well, he always seemed like a nice boy." Madame Hooch said. "Doesn't cause any problems and keeps his nose clean during Quidditch."

Madame Pince folded her arms and huffed. "Well, I did catch him once with a Chocolate Frog in the library!"

The other teachers stared for a moment. What seemed like a crime punishable by death to Madame Pince was little more than a minor offense to them.

"You're not sure where the Slytherins stand as far as Hogwarts is concerned, are you?" Professor Vector spoke up, gaining respect from the others once again for her intelligence.

"Yes, that's exactly what I wonder, Septima." The Headmistress sighed again. "I admit that I struggle a bit—my whole family for generations have been under the banner of Godric Gryffindor. It would be difficult to see…"

"But Matilda married a Muggle. Surely it mustn't bother you anymore." Madame Pince said.

McGonagall shrugged. "I'm afraid that I let it bother me more than it should have. I wasted so many years arguing and squabbling with my niece when I should have accepted her choice. I want to do the same with Aurora, but this time…"

The door to the teacher's lounge swung open and in came Professor Flitwick, Slughorn, and Fickle chatting. McGonagall looked to the ladies. "Another time."

Next to Phaedrus Fickle, Professor Slughorn seemed like a tall and athletic being. The new Muggle Studies professor had walked into the room carrying a small stack of books, but nearly tripped over his own feet and landed upon the table where the ladies where having tea. Still having her reflexes from her Quidditch days, Madame Hooch managed to move some of the tea cups out of the way before the great spill.

"Sorry, sorry!" Professor Fickle squeaked while he hurriedly tried to gather his split books. "Oh, Miss Trelawney," He fiddled with his crooked glasses, pushing them up his short nose. "What a pleasure to see you out of your tower!"

Professor Trelawney waved in her hands in a mystical fashion and took a deep sniff of the air, as if there were a delightful fragrance around. "The air is unusually clear today for the sixth sense. I found the Inner Voice leading me to descend to the depths below…"

Professor Fickle's baby blue eyes widened.

"Oh, really?" Madame Pomfrey spoke up. "It was a faculty memo for me."

Professor Sprout almost choked on her tea.

Ninox entered next grumbling under his breath while Professor Babbling and Mirkwood followed shortly after. As more Professors starting pouring into the room for the meeting, McGonagall stood up and headed to the front of the room to address her faculty.

* * *

Hermione had entered the Great Hall earlier than usual for dinner. Instead of taking her bag all the way upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, she instead came to dinner and started working on the homework recently assigned in Potions class. As much as the lady seemed frightening, Professor Mirkwood appeared to be a good teacher. She had assigned all the seventh years a special written assignment based off something that each student might come across in the career of their choice. Some students who wished to be Potion brews could write about an extremely complex potion or a particular potion they would like to work with someday. Hermione knew that Aurora was writing about the Healing Properties of Dittany since Aurora wished to become a healer. Hermione had chosen her subject during the course of the day (Ethics and Polyjuice potion) and now was about to start writing on her piece of parchment before she heard the faint sound of giggles across the hall.

Where giggles were, there usually was trouble. Hermione's quick eyes darted across the room, scanning for any signs of mischief, but she did not find any. Oddly, all she found were a pack of fourth and fifth year girls sitting at the Ravenclaw table talking animatedly and occasionally peaking over their shoulders to look at her. At first, Hermione thought they may be gathered around some love potion or note, but they seemed more interested in sneaking peaks at her. It was strange—she wasn't used to people wanting to stare at her all the time. Some of the girls immediately burst into giggles when they peaked at her while others had looks of cold resentment upon their faces. Hermione's brow rose for a moment, but she ignored the girls, and went back to her work.

Students started pouring in for dinnertime. She put her books away early instead of continuing to work, excited to see her two best friends. Soon enough, they appeared at the entrance, looking somewhat lost amidst the crowd despite having passed through those doors for six years. They spotted Hermione at the table and waved before coming over. Ron took the seat to Hermione's left while Harry sat across from them.

"It's good to see you," Hermione beamed at Harry.

He nodded, hardly containing his smile. "And you, Hermione."

"Where's that guy you were with?"

"Thor?" Ron said. "He didn't want to come, and that's probably a good thing."

"Why?" She asked.

"He'll eat all the food," Ron said.

Ginny's slender arms came around Harry's shoulders. "Welcome back," She said before plopping down next to Harry.

"Ginny," Harry breathed, feeling that unresolved guilt back in the pit of his stomach. "Good…good…to see you," He stuttered.

Ron looked around at the golden dinnerware and rubbed his hands together. "I wonder what we're having tonight! I can't wait!"

"Is that all you think about—_food_?" Ginny asked.

Ron looked offended. "What? I've been living off noodles heated with _Incendio_ all summer!"

"The way mum tells it, you've both been flooing over for dinner at least three or four times a week."

"But there's like thirty-five meals a week that we've got to fend for ourselves."

"Twenty-one," Hermione corrected.

"Am I interrupting anything?" A skinny raven-haired girl approached holding a book in her arms.

"No, sit down," Ginny motioned. "My brother's just being an idiot!"

"What? I can't help it if I'm hungry all the time!"

Aurora took a seat next to Ron. "He must have been cursed—forever hungry and never satisfied."

"Exactly!" Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, Ron, this is Aurora McGonagall."

"Hello," Harry said.

"Hi," Aurora said back, a bit shyly, trying to avert her eyes from the scar on Harry's forehead, which Harry did appreciate the gesture no matter that she failed at keeping it hidden from him.

"You're related to Professor McGonagall?" Ron asked.

Aurora nodded. "Yes, she's my great-aunt."

Ron gave a heavy sigh. "I have a great-aunt—Muriel." He shuttered. "That woman will be the death of me—I know it! She told me that my nose was crooked." He pounded in fist into his hand. "I'll show her crooked…"

"_Don't take it personally_," Hermione chided. "That's what _you _said when _she_ said that I had 'bad posture and skinny ankles.'"

"Oh, really? She said I had cankles." Ginny said, unabashed.

They all laughed, finding the argument going to a ridiculous place.

"Harry!" Jimmy Peakes called out

"What's up, man?" Ritchie Cootie patted him on the shoulder.

Harry greeted the two beaters that replaced the Weasley twins when he was still in school. Following right behind them was Avalon Stratford. He took a seat next to Ginny, a bit absent-minded, but he looked up and noticed two unfamiliar faces. His eyes widened. "You're Ron Weasley!" He said, pointing.

"Uh, yeah?" Ron said, looking completely shocked that his name was known, and even that he was noticed first.

"You fought _Him_," Avalon said in a bit of awe and wonder. He then turned and looked past Ginny at Harry. "And Harry Potter," He gasped a bit.

"Er—yes," Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

Avalon stuck out his hand and shook hands with both of them. "I still have the letter that you autographed for me. Fancy that you met my mum, isn't it?" He continued to look back and forth between them. "Perhaps we could have a chat sometime? I'd like to ask you some questions."

"About what?" Harry asked.

"Well…" Avalon started to flush a bit. He pointed to his own forehead. "About the scar…I mean…if…that's alright? I'm just curious. And well, other stuff too, of course."

"Er…I suppose so." Harry said.

"That'd be great. Thanks," Avalon said. He was cut off by the arrival of food upon the table. Ron's arms made a large sweeping motion, capturing all the varieties of food he wished to eat. He was already happily tucking into a slice of bread before anyone else even finished selecting what they wished to eat.

Avalon put a few raw carrots and celery slices onto his plate before handing the dish to Aurora without being asked. She looked at him a bit peculiar before taking the platter.

"Thought you wanted it—you know—because you're a vegetarian." He said, noticing the look on her face.

"Yes, thanks," She muttered, still a bit stunned that he remembered. She set the tray down and began to choose many of the vegetables upon it.

Before eating, Harry looked around the room. It seemed the same as always, students chatting noisily and joyously eating the delicious food prepared for them. He glanced up at the high table, however, and noticed many changes in the faculty. Where the Muggle Studies teacher usually sat, there was a short and plump man with a red bow tie around what little neck he had, but he beamed with a warm smile and radiance. In McGonagall's old spot sat an ancient looking wizard who had a face as if a dungbomb went off recently. In Snape's old chair, Slughorn sat merrily conversing with the professor next to him. On his other side, was a dark and ghastly witch who had her arms folded tightly as she surveyed the room. A silvery blondish haired professor with a patch over his eye sat at the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. As Harry looked, he caught eye with the Professor. The Professor nodded with a smile and Harry nodded back.

"Who's that?" Harry turned his attention back to the table.

"Who?" Hermione looked up where Harry motioned. "That's Professor Pascal—new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He's brilliant. I _really_ think you'd like him, Harry."

"Yeah, he teaches us useful stuff," Ginny said. "Even offers outside help if anyone wants it."

Harry looked back towards the new teacher for a moment. "Must say I'm a little jealous that Hogwarts finally gets a good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—well, besides Lupin."

"I think you should meet him sometime. He used to be something like an Auror for the German Ministry of Magic. Maybe you could meet him during a Hogsmeade visit?" Hermione suggested

"Uh, alright," Harry said.

"He's really impressed that many of us know how to perform the Patronus charm. I think he'd like to thank you for it," Ginny said.

Ron got a sly look on his face. "My patronus is a Jack Russell Terrier. What's yours?" He turned to Avalon.

The boy had just stuffed his mouth with mashed potatoes but once he finished chewing he answered up. "It's a falcon."

"Oh, really?" Ron asked, a bit put out.

Avalon nodded. "Just like my dad."

"Harry's is a stag, just like his dad," Ginny said. "I wonder if that happens often. You know, the same one in the family."

"All my family are able to produce their patronus into the form of a cat." Aurora spoke up, feeling a bit nervous. "Mine is still in shield form," She tried to laugh as if it was a joke, but barely could get the sound out.

"It takes a lot of practice. It's a very advance form of magic." Hermione said, textbook like.

"Don't worry—I'll help you," Avalon blurted out. When all eyes fell on him, he turned a bit red. "We'll all help, won't we?"

The others nodded in agreement and turned away from him.

"Well, speaking of falcons—here comes one now." Ginny pointed up towards the ceiling. Not many owls arrived at dinnertime, making it easy to spot the smaller sized falcon zooming across the room. The bird gently dived down towards the table and gracefully landed with two hops in front of its master.

Avalon reached out taking the bird into his hands and beginning to untie the letter. He absentmindedly stroked the bird's chest while examining the letter.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked, noticing the look on Avalon's face.

Avalon shook his head. "I don't recognize the handwriting. Must have come through the sorted mail. Odd though it didn't come in the morning." He broke the golden seal on the back and tore into the letter.

"What'cha got there?" Ritchie Cootie piped up from down table. Avalon did not answer as he read the letter.

"Let's see!" Jimmy Peakes snatched up the letter. "Dear Mr. Stratford," He read aloud in his most regal voice. "We are happy to inform you that you have been selected as the recipient for _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile Award for 1998." Jimmy gave the paper back.

Blushing a furious shade of red, Avalon forced himself into a smile, which all together made him look all the more charming. "You've even got a certificate and all." Ritchie Cootie piped up which only made the boy blush deeper.

"Well, how about that?" Ginny said to break the awkward pause.

"Well," Avalon sighed and looked away, taking a bite of his dinner. "I can't help it if I got such a charming smile…" He opened his mouth revealing globs of chocolate pudding all over his teeth.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny burst into laugh, but Ron while his instinct had him laughing at first, he quickly stopped. Aurora pinched her lips together and turned away. Avalon noticed the various reactions and closed his mouth.

"That's gross," Ron exclaimed. "Don't even want any pudding now."

"Sorry," Avalon muttered, looking away.

"Ron," Hermione chided.

"So where you from Aurora?" Harry asked, trying to keep conversation going.

She looked up. "Wales—in the St. David's area."

Harry nodded. "Not too far from Bill and Fleur then."

"Oh, you're right." Ginny said. "That's my oldest brother and his wife," she added for Aurora's sake. Ginny nodded towards Aurora. "She plays Quidditch, you know."

"Oh, really?" Harry looked interested. "What do you play?"

"Keeper."

"Keeper?" Ron said, sounding slightly offended.

Aurora nodded. "Played keeper on a team ever since I was eight."

Harry looked confused. "How'd you play since you were eight? You have to be eleven to get into Hogwarts—and first years never made the team."

"Except you," Hermione added.

"Well—that's not the point," Harry said. "What team were you on?"

"It was in summer Quidditch league. A lot of towns form teams for all ages to play against one another. That's how most people play if they didn't make the Hogwarts teams, or if they were home-schooled like me." Aurora said.

Harry wondered why the Weasleys never mentioned playing in a summer Quidditch league, but he got his answer after hearing Ron mutter something about it being "too expensive."

"The youngest division was the 8-10 year olds so I played the earliest I could," Aurora said. "I've been playing ever since."

"Harry, you should come to tryouts—you too, Ron," Ginny said. "You can tell me who stinks from your point of view in the stands."

"Sounds like fun," Ron said. "That is if George will let us have the time off."

"Bring him too."

"Avalon plays Quidditch too," Hermione said. "What was it you played again?"

Ron looked from Hermione to Avalon and back and forth.

Avalon looked up again, a bit shyly. "Chaser. I used to play Seeker when I was little, but I grew too much. I like Chaser though."

"Yeah, I've done both myself," Ginny said. "I think I like Seeker better though."

"Dessert!" Ron exclaimed as the many of the main course and side dishes were replaced by decedent cakes, sweet cookies, fluffy pastries, and luscious tarts. He repeated his action with the main course and started making broad sweeps with his arms to capture all the desserts he wished to sample.

As Avalon reached for a cake, he noticed a shiny badge on Hermione's backpack with flashing letters. "What is S.P.E.W.?" He asked.

"It's S.P.E…" Ron started, but stopped. "Oh, wait, he got it right."

Hermione sat up straight. "S.P.E.W. stands for The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"I've never heard of it," He said.

"Hmm, that's a shame," Hermione said, disappointed her leaflet campaign did not have the impact she hoped it would. "S.P.E.W. was started four years ago to protect and promote the interest of Elfish kind and awake the Wizarding world to the cruel injustice and atrocities committed to house-elves."

"Yeah," Ron said. "It's about being nice to house-elves."

"It's about more than that, Ronald," She cleared her throat ready to begin a lecture. "House-elves have been given a poor working conditions and unfair treatment! It's slavery! That's what it is!"

"Can I have one of those badges?" He pointed at Hermione's. "I'll put it on my messenger bag."

"You want one? You actually want one?" Ginny looked a bit stunned.

He nodded. "Sounds like a good thing. Someone should be doing something, right?" He looked to Hermione. "How much does it cost?"

"Ten galleons," Ron blurted out.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Two sickles, but that buys you a membership into the society. You'll receive all rights and privileges of the organization, and I'm even starting up a newsletter."

"Rights and privileges?" Ron mouthed to Harry to which Harry shrugged.

"Great," Avalon said, reaching out his hand to take a badge from Hermione in exchange for two sickles. True to his word, he pinned the badge onto his bag.

"You want one too, Aurora?"

She looked up, a bit stunned from the whole thing. Her parents never had a house-elf, but she supposed there were some house-elves that were abused by their masters. "Alright," She nodded and turned to dig in her bag. "I don't think I have any money on me right now."

"I'll get it," Avalon dug into his robes and pulled out two more sickles.

"No, no, that's quite alright," She said, but he had already handed the coins to Hermione. She was given a badge and she muttered a "thank you' in Avalon's direction.

"This is great!" Hermione squealed excitedly. "Two new members!"

* * *

She knew it—sometimes she acted strong or tough to the outside world—but deep down inside, there were things that bothered her. She realized that, and feeling a sense of relief that he seemed to feel it too, made Ginny feel all the more confirmed. She stared over and over again at the little note he slipped her while saying goodbye at dinner.

_ I know we need to talk. I haven't forgotten about us—about you. When I get a chance to explain everything, I will. _

_ Harry_

She tucked the note safely away in her dresser and continued to get ready for bed. The other girls in the room were also preparing for bedtime. Others laid on their beds already dressed in nightclothes while chatting merrily with their friends. Hermione tried to untangle a knot in her hair with a brush, but she gave up and exchanged her brush for a wand instead. She gave a sharp flick and the knot was loosened with magic. Aurora finished her nightly routine and turned towards her bed. She had left her school bag on her bed. As she bent down to remove it, the S.P.E.W badge fell out. She picked it up and held it in her hand for a moment before setting it up on her dresser.

"Professor!" One of the girls said, a bit startled.

Aurora turned towards the doorway. In her long tartan nightgown, Professor McGonagall came up the steps and into the Girls Dormitory. The other seventh year girls, feeling a bit awkward, cleared out for the common room, but Hermione and Ginny stayed with Aurora.

Aurora felt a flush come to her face as she looked down at her tartan bed pants. "Is something the matter, Professor?"

McGonagall gently shook her head. "No, nothing's the matter." She slowly walked over to their side of the room, gently reaching out for one of the bedposts and swinging a bit on it. "Just seeing what's going on."

Aurora raised an eyebrow. "Okay,"

Professor McGonagall continued to walk forward. She sprawled out over Aurora's bed, laying on her stomach. "How are you all lately? Managing well?"

Hermione and Ginny dared not exchange glances. "We're fine," They both said in unison.

"And how about you?" McGonagall looked to her niece. "Any news? Anything exciting?"

Aurora shrugged. "I don't know. Just being at Hogwarts I suppose."

"Making any new friends?"

Aurora nodded towards Hermione and Ginny. "Well, I suppose we get along well, don't you say?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, suppose we do."

"Yes, of course," Hermione said.

"That all?" McGonagall sat up.

Aurora pondered for a moment. "My first Charms quiz went well."

"Oh, good! Good!" McGonagall said. She looked to Hermione and Ginny. "I presume Mr. Potter and Mr. Wealsey are well?"

The girls nodded again. "Yes."

"Now tell me, Miss Granger, would you classify you and Mr. Wealsey as an item?" McGonagall asked

"Yes," Hermione came to a light blush.

"Ah, well, young love," The Professor said in an airy voice. "I've been at Hogwarts many a season." She looked to Ginny. "I remember your parents courting back in the day."

"Oh, nice," Ginny muttered.

McGonagall looked over at Aurora. "And your mother—what a heart-breaker!"

"Huh?" Aurora looked confused.

"Your mother had a few admirers in her day-too many for my taste, in fact"

"Oh," The girl muttered, not knowing much about the other men her mother dated except for her father.

"It seems perhaps you might be the same way," McGonagall muttered quietly. Aurora happened to be in a yawn at the moment and didn't hear what her aunt said. She asked for a repeat, but the Professor shook her head and stood up. "Oh, never mind, ladies. I should let you all get to bed." She started towards the door. "I enjoyed this little chat though. Don't worry—what was said between us girls stays between us girls!" McGonagall left the room.

"Okay, that was the strangest thing I've ever seen in my life," Ginny said.

"Tell me about it," Aurora said. "And I've known her much longer."

"What was she doing?" Ginny asked.

Aurora crossed her arms over her chest. "Fishing for something. I'm not sure what though."

Hermione crawled unto her bed with Crookshanks, her mind spinning with thoughts.


	10. Quidditch Tryouts

Chapter Ten

**Quidditch Tryouts**

It was just there—barely out of his reach. He stretched out both arms as his heavy feet began to tread forward. A large apple pie hovered right before him, amidst the blackness of his dreams. He lunged forward, reaching for the pie, but it continued to hover just out of reach. The harder he tried to capture the large pie, the harder it seemed to move his clunky feet.

"No, wait!" Ron muttered as the pie of his dreams floated away. He mustered all his strength and continued to run after the pie. He looked downward towards his feet. They were as big as bricks. Never mind that though, he thought—he had to catch that pie. After a few moments of running, he came upon a large and noisy crowd. Flashes of white light flickered from all angles, nearly blinding him as he approached.

"Mr. Minister! Mr. Minister!" One of the people yelled, holding a quill and notepad. "How have you been managing with your _perfect_ life?"

Ron lost interest in the pie as he approached the crowd. He weaved through the people towards the center to what appeared to be a small platform.

"What can I say?" A familiar voice said. "It's _perfect_."

As Ron came to the front of the platform, his mouth fell agape. Standing tall and proud with his chest puffed out, Avalon Stratford flashed his award-winning smile towards the crowd. His teeth were dazzling white, nearly blinding Ron, and his blue eyes sparkled like stars. His wild blonde hair was the _perfect_ balance of wild, tamed, and sexy according to some of the ladies in the crowd that Ron overheard. His skin seemed to sparkle with an unnatural brilliance. He was dressed in the finest midnight blue and gold robes and his pockets jingled of Galleons as he moved.

"How does it feel to be the youngest Minister ever?"

Avalon flashed his bright smile again. "Well, it does feel extraordinary good and _perfect_, but I cannot take all the credit, of course." Avalon glanced to his right with another smile. His arm slid around her slender hips as he pulled her close to him. "I want to thank my _perfect_ wife…"

"'Mione?" Ron gasped.

There she was—beautiful in gentle curls and a pearly white smile. Her skin, too, seemed to sparkle with an abnormal and beautiful tint. Her long eyelashes fluttered like the wings of butterflies as she gazed adorningly at Avalon. Their hands intertwined as they looked upon one another.

"Tell us, Mrs. Stratford, what is like to be married to the Minister?"

Hermione gave more disgustingly loving looks towards Avalon before turning to the crowd. "Most think that it's _perfect_ to be married to Avalon Stratford because he's so _perfect_—you know, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Grand Sorcerer…oh yes, and _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile Award Winner.." She paused to exchange smiles with Avalon again. "…But for me, it's not about those things." She gave an airy sigh. "He's so handsome, and sweet, and kind, and intelligent, and thoughtful, and brave, and creative, and…" She sighed again. "…he's so _perfect_."

"And tell us, how are the children doing?" One of the crowd asked.

"Children?" Ron nearly choked.

At each side, a child appeared. At Avalon's side appeared a boy who was the exact mirror and image of his father. The boy too had an unnatural beautiful smile, excellent hair, and a proud look upon his face. Avalon put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Avalon Jr. has been made Head Boy at Hogwarts. He also is Quidditch Captain of Gryffindor and has _perfect_ grades. He is very popular and well liked by everyone."

Hermione put free arm around the girl who appeared next to her. Again, the girl barred an exact resemblance to her mother with gentle curls, nice skin, and a pretty smile. "Hermione Jr. is also Head Girl. She is the Dueling Club Captain and also has _perfect_ grades."

Avalon gave a hearty laugh. "What else is to be expected from a _perfect_ family? The whole family joined in laughing with Avalon.

"Dad, we love you! You're so _perfect_!" Avalon Jr. and Hermione Jr. chorused in unison.

Hermione looked toward Avalon, a hungry look in her eye. "What would I do without you, my _perfect _husband?" She passionately kissed him.

The crowd "awed" as the coupled continued to kiss passionately, snaking their arms around one another.

Ron tried to yell, but only a small squeak came out.

Hermione Jr. pointed straight at Ron. "Ewww! Who's that?"

Everyone turned to Ron.

Ron looked down at his brick-like feet, but not only that, his hands were swollen like balloons. His clothes were ragged and too short for his lanky body. His fingernails were dirty and he began to notice a foul odor about him.

"You're not supposed to be here!" Shortly after, Ron was hit in the face with an apple pie.

Ron shot up out of bed and his head collided with the bunk above him. He yelled out a few chosen curse words as he grabbed his head.

"Whazzmadder?" Harry startled away and fumbled around for his wand. "Lumos!"

Ron sat in his bed, rubbing his head angrily. "Nothing!" He hissed, still thinking of the contents of his dream. "It's fine! It's _perfect_!" He muttered angrily.

Harry's new owl started to hoot from all the commotion. "It's alright, Knut," Harry called out to the owl that was recently named. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine!"

Harry cast a strange a look. He glanced up at the bunk above Ron. Thor appeared to be either still asleep or disinterested. He gave Ron one last look and laid back down. "Nox!"

Ron laid his head back down on his pillow and stayed still for a few moments before turning and giving his pillow a swift punch.

* * *

It was a damp and cold misty morning on the day of Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts. Usually, tryouts would not begin so early, but seeing as in the last couple of years Quidditch had become increasingly cutthroat at Hogwarts, teams were practicing earlier and harder than ever before. The other house teams were especially motivated to reforming their Quidditch teams due to the travesties that happened last year. While the school was under the governance of Voldemort's followers, Slytherin had an extremely unfair advantage in every competition—especially Quidditch.

Hermione and Ginny sat huddled together high up in the stands while they munched on toast and marmalade from the Great Hall. As they approached, Ron snagged a piece of toast before Hermione could slap his hand.

"Get your own toast!"

"What?" Ron said, mouth half-full. "I'm hungry."

"Did you eat breakfast?" Ginny asked.

"Madame Rosmerta doesn't open the Three Broomsticks until 10 on Saturdays," Ron said.

"You could always make it yourself. Honestly, if you'd just learn a few cooking spells," Hermione chided.

Ron shrugged. "Who's got time for that? Besides, it's much more fun to nick your toast instead."

"Where's George?" Ginny asked.

"He wanted to come," Harry said. "He said he had to finish an inventory report before we can open. He's hoping for Monday."

"I can't stay the whole time myself," Ron said, swallowing the rest of his toast. "Need to be looking out for suspicious activity, you know."

At the finish of Ron's sentence, a pair of large feet stomped upon the wooden deck of the stands. They turned their heads to see a massive wizard approaching them slowly.

Ron gulped.

Today, he wore black combat boots, camouflage pants, a green tee-shirt with a brown jacket thrown over it with rips in the sleeves. His hands were covered in fingerless gloves, and his wand was out and ready.

"Oh, hello…Thor is it?" Hermione said, voice rising a bit higher than normal. "Having a pleasant morning?"

He grunted as he continued to approach them.

She gave a nervous smile. "Where are you from, Thor?"

"Liverpool."

"Oh, that's nice. Did you go to Hogwarts then?"

"Hufflepuff."

Ron looked sideward at Harry and mouthed, "Hufflepuff?"

"I see," Ginny nodded, not convinced either.

"Hufflepuff, eh?" Ron patted Thor on his large shoulder to which Thor turned his attention on Ron. "Did you play any Quidditch? Suspect you were a beater, weren't you?"

"Don't play Quidditch."

Ron's resolve grew weaker and weaker with the larger scowl that seemed to grow on Thor's face. "You don't play Quidditch? What…what…do you…play?"

"Rugby."

"Rugby?" Ron looked puzzled. "Does that have something to do with rugs—like flying carpets?"

"No, Ron, _rugby_! It's a Muggle sport." Hermione turned to Thor. "You're Muggle-born."

Thor nodded again with a grunt.

"So am I," Hermione said to which Thor gave her a slight nod.

"Well, that should make you the best of friends then, shouldn't it?" Ron said with a nervous laugh. "In fact, let's all be friends!" Thor only seemed to scowl as Ron kept talking.

Eventually, Thor turned around and started descending the stairs of the stand, his black boots stomping on each step.

"He's on duty first," Harry said. "Ron'll join him half-way through practice."

Ginny stood up from her seat, clutching her broomstick in her hand. "They'll be arriving any moment now. I better get down there." She threw her leg over her broomstick.

"Good luck, Ginny!" Hermione squealed.

Ron nodded. "Don't embarrass me."

"Don't worry—you're enough of an embarrassment to yourself," Ginny said back while Harry laughed. Once he finished he looked up. "Don't go easy on them, Captain."

"Right," she nodded and took off into the sky.

True enough to her word, students started making their way down to the Quidditch pitch after Ginny had done a lap around the stadium and landed onto the damp grass. First to arrive were some very eager second years who had some that wished to try out and the rest as a cheering section. Next came, Euan Abercrombie who Harry remembered being sorted in his fifth year. To their surprise, Andrew Kirke, who had been a terrible beater, turned up again. Dean Thomas came out also followed closely by Aurora McGonagall clutching a Nimbus Thousand.

"Hey, she's got a Nimbus like I had."

"Hmmm," Hermione muttered.

"What?" Harry looked at her.

"Professor McGonagall probably bought yours and hers at the same time."

Harry looked back towards the crowd forming below. A small twinge of warmth filled him—McGonagall treated him just like family—and yet, he felt a twinge of guilt for wrecking the thing, despite the fact that it wasn't his fault.

"Wonderful morning for Quidditch, isn't it?" A brisk voice came from behind them.

"Professor McGonagall!" Harry rose to greet her, just thinking of her moments ago. "How are you?"

"Excellent, Potter, just excellent" she said quite happily taking a seat a few rows above them. "I'm excited to see Aurora try out today. I've always imagined her playing for Gryffindor."

Demelza Robins came out onto the field talking with Avalon Stratford. The noisy crowd that had gathered became silent for a moment until people started murmuring and saying the same word, "_Kamikaze_."

Harry and Ron looked at one another.

"_Kamikaze?"_ Hermione looked puzzled.

Harry and Ron both leapt out of their seats and ran down to the pitch. Hermione turned her neck. "Where are you two going?" But she saw Professor McGonagall do the same, tartan scarf fluttering behind her. Hermione gave a deep sigh and got up out of her seat.

"It's beautiful," One of the boys said, almost drooling, at the sight of the broomstick.

In Avalon's hands, he held a dark broomstick with black twigs wildly sticking out the back. Etched in gold writing were strange symbols not in English while two blue stripes raced down the handle.

"How'd you get it?" Dean Thomas marveled, reaching out but not touching it.

Once Ron saw that the _Kamikaze_ was in Avalon's hands, a scowl formed on his face. "Would it kill him to buy British?" Ron turned away, but continued to sneak peaks at the broom.

"Got it for my birthday this year."

"Some birthday present!" A girl spoke up.

Hermione came alongside Aurora. "What's happening? I don't understand."

Aurora nodded towards Avalon. "He's got a _Kamikaze_. It's the latest broom from Japan. It's definitely on par with the Firebolt series. A lot of Asian teams are going with _Kamikaze_ brooms for the World Cup."

"Oh," Hermione muttered, trying to be impressed just as much as everyone else was.

"That's a fabulous broom, Stratford," McGonagall said, not doing well to hide her obvious delight.

"Thank you, Professor," He said with a smile, feeling the same pride as he held the broom.

Ginny walked up to the crowd. "Alright people! We need to get this moving! Everyone who's trying out for the team, move to the center of the pitch!"

People moved away grudgingly from the Kamikaze to follow Ginny's orders. The students who were trying out walked onto the field while the spectators chose seats up in the stands.

"I can't even imagine how much of an edge having a Kamikaze on the team will make for Gryffindor!" McGonagall said happily.

"That's _if_ he makes the team," Ron muttered. "Can't just buy a flashy broom and expect to be put on the team, can you?"

"No," Harry said, trying to console his moody friend. "You can't." In some ways, Harry couldn't help but feeling the same way. What kind of spoiled git got a Kamikaze for his birthday, but then again, Harry did get a Firebolt for Christmas one year. But that was different—he told himself—Sirius said that it was thirteen birthdays and Christmases worth.

Another part of Harry, however, felt guilty for having a grudge against someone he barely knew. Sure, the papers made him out to be a real prat, but he never actually spent a lot of time with Avalon in person. And he thought of Avalon's mother, who had been very kind to him. She even had bought him a new owl, which Ron suggested the name Knut—and it stuck. Was Avalon more like his mother, or was Avalon a complete prat who had his mother fooled Harry wondered?

Like Harry did his first year as Captain, Ginny had them all fly around in circles around the pitch to assess their flying abilities. She had them take off four at a time to keep flying traffic down.

"Next!" She called

Avalon and Aurora came together as the crowd thinned down, and they were lined up next to one another when the next four were begin prepared for flight. He mounted his Kamikaze while she straddled her Nimbus. They instinctively looked over at one another.

There was a large smirk upon his face as his hands clenched the handle of his broom. She grinned back. He winked at her just before Ginny hollered "go" and they both shot up powerfully up off the ground. They soared in front of the other two in their line, and quickly came up behind the line ahead of them. Aurora jerked up while Avalon averted under while using the Sloth Grip Roll technique, zooming underneath two other players. After coming out of his roll, he pulled upward and met back up with Aurora.

"That's quite alright!" Ginny hollered. "You don't need…" She gave up. They were long gone.

They jerked around the goalposts and tore off into the countryside surrounding the Quidditch pitch. They raced alongside the small creek in the ravine, narrowly zooming under an aqueduct, and back towards the stadium. He kept glancing over to his left, his smile widening, as she concentrated on following his movements. He looked forward and focused.

The sound of the two flyers ripped through the stadium. Most looked completely dumbfounded as they stared at the two blurs for a split second. The others stopped flying and merely sat hovering on their brooms in mid-air.

Harry was out of his seat and leaning over the edge of the stands as the two flyers passed by their hands. He felt his hair ruffle in the wind as they came close. He turned once they were out of sight to the sound of McGonagall cheering and clapping her hands exuberantly.

"You never told us she's a good flyer," Harry said while sitting back down with Ron and Hermione. "Sure she shouldn't be a Chaser?"

"That's what I used to tell her." McGonagall finally stopped clapping and put her raw hands down in her lap. "She could have been a Chaser like her mother and great-aunt," She said proudly. "Her grandfather got a hold of her first—made her a Keeper instead."

"A little sibling-rivalry, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione teased.

"Oh, baby brother knew I only kidded," The Headmistress waved her hand.

"I didn't know you had a brother, Professor," Harry said.

"Lucien McGonagall—worked as a writer for the Daily Prophet." McGonagall pursed her lips for a moment before speaking. "They got him early in the first war—couldn't have the Prophet telling the truth, of course."

"Yeah, they couldn't do that." Harry muttered jokingly, but not feeling much like it was a joke. A lot of people lost everything during these wars—not just him.

"You know, Potter," McGongall changed the subject. "My niece Matilda played with your father a few years on the team."

Harry turned back towards her. "Really? Your niece was in Gryffindor too?"

McGonagall nodded. "She was two years ahead of your mother and father."

"Looks like they finally settled down," Ron pointed in the sky at two slowly moving figures.

"Avalon's a pretty good flyer too," Hermione said.

"Let's his broom do all the work, I suppose," Ron said. "Even you'd look good on…" He started to blush and ramble as Hermione shot him a furious look. "Oh look, they've landed! Wonder what Ginny will have to say?"

Ginny indeed looked furious, but it was difficult for her to maintain that rouse as the two flyers approached her on foot. "You can't go off…" She couldn't keep a straight face anymore. "…ahem…I…we've got to keep practice orderly, all right?"

"Sorry, Ginny," Aurora muttered. "Got carried away."

Avalon nodded in response. "It won't happen again."

"Good," Ginny smirked and walked away to continue the tryouts.

Aurora turned sharply on her heel. "See what kind of trouble you got me into?" She hissed.

"_You_ followed! I didn't force you!" He whispered back with a big grin.

"Wipe that stupid look off your face before I wipe it off on the pitch for you," She said, just before whipping her hair back as she marched forward.

Avalon stood dumbfounded for a moment before he turned around at the sound of sniggering. "Oh, shut up!" He hissed at Ritchie Cootie, Jimmy Peakes, and a few other Gryffindors.

Tryouts continued with goal-scoring, hoop blocking, bludger bashing, and more flying. Some of the hopeful tryouts were hilarious to watch, possessing no skill whatsoever to be playing Quidditch, while others blundered nervously in front of the audience in the stands. Ron gave a loud yawn until he heard the switch for "keepers" from Ginny's mouth. "This ought to be interesting."

"Chasers form a line on the left and Keepers on the right," Ginny called. "I'll have you all practice against one another." Seven people lined up for the Chaser position while three lined up for the Keeper position.

Aurora was sandwiched between two taller boys in her line—another seventh year and a fifth year. The one in front of her glanced behind his shoulder at her. "This is the keeper line."

"Yes, I know," She said.

"Aren't you a bit, you know—_twiggy—_ to be playing Keeper?"

She wanted to scowl but only managed to blush.

"What's that got to do with it?" Avalon piped up from his line.

The boy looked towards Avalon then back to Aurora. "Just wanted to make sure she doesn't break a nail, that's all."

"Maybe you should concentrate on yourself," Aurora found her voice. "Before you break your ego."

The boy shot her a dirty look before turning around. He was called up first and did fairly well at defending the goal-post. He seemed rather satisfied with his performance as he came back down to the ground, but soon lost his confidence once he saw the girl behind him in action. Yes, she was thin, but she was quick. She had very agile movements and senses that enabled her to defend the hoops and pass the Quaffle back off to her teammates.

Hermione clapped and cheered along with McGonagall as Aurora deflected another shot and passed it off to a moving Chaser. She glanced over at a grumpy looking Ron for a moment, putting her hand on his knee to soothe him. He didn't like it that a girl was showing him up at Quidditch even if he wasn't trying out for the team.

"I better get going," Ron stood up. "I'm supposed to meet up with Thor to walk through the castle." He bit them goodbye and headed out of the stands.

Hermione sat silently for a moment watching Harry engrossed in the tryouts. His bright green eyes darted back and forth among all the players and his nose would cringe at the particular bad ones, or his eyes would fly wide open during an exciting moment. "Harry," She gently said his name.

"Hmmm?" He was still paying more attention to the tryouts.

"Have you thought anymore about Ginny?" She asked, a blush coming to her face as he rounded on her. "I'm sorry."

He stared at her for a moment, a little guilty that he made her feel frightened. "I've thought about it—about her—I mean," He said slowly.

"What are you going to do?"

Harry glanced around for a moment, making sure they weren't being overheard. "I don't know yet. But I am thinking about it."

"I know she doesn't show it, but it…" Hermione paused for a moment, looking down at Ginny.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It hurt her—when we were away." Hermione continued to look towards the overcast sky. "I think part of her still feels like you're away—or on a mission—since you haven't resolved things."

"In some ways, I still am," Harry said, bitterly, thinking of his newest job from Kingsley. "But I know you're right. I have to do something, and soon."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes welling up with faint tears. "Oh, Harry!" She reached out and took him into a big hug. "You've grown up so much!"

"Alright, alright!" Harry chided. "You're just like…"

"What?" She looked taken back.

Harry laughed. "Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione blushed. "Well…I…er…sorry."

* * *

Quidditch practice was finally over and seven members were chosen for the team. Three Chasers were chosen: Dean Thomas, Demelza Robbins, and Avalon Stratford. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Cootie were made Beaters again. Aurora McGonagall was placed as Keeper, and Ginny Weasley, the team Captain, would be the Seeker. All in all, it seemed that Gryffindor team was in good shape for this season. The dejected players all gloomily headed back to the castle while many of the audience did the same. The chosen players lingered for a moment for a quick meeting before heading back.

Knowing that he needed to be on duty, Harry pulled out his wand and started heading away from the Quidditch pitch. His eyes scanned the grounds, not really expecting to find anything useful, as he headed back up to the castle. He walked silently for a few moments until he heard his name called.

"Harry!" Avalon zoomed up on his Kamikaze and leapt off once he caught up to Harry. "Mind if I walk back up to the castle with you?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess not," He lied.

They began walking in the same direction, but they did not speak for a while. Hating the silence, Harry glanced over at Avalon's broom. "Got yourself a Kamikaze then?" Harry said, for lack of any thing better to say.

Avalon nodded vigorously while he held up the handle of the broom. "Yes, just got it. Barely a month old."

"Awfully nice of your mum to get that for you," Harry said, letting a little spite slip into his voice.

"My mum didn't buy this for me." Avalon looked confused.

"What do you mean?" Harry looked surprised.

Avalon stopped, holding the broom tightly in both hands. "My friends—the Muggles," He added for Harry's sake. "The ones my mum and I went into hiding with—they bought it for me." He rubbed his thumbs over the Japanese label. "The Ministry of Magic ordered that their memories be stricken from them for their protection. We protested, but lost the case." He gave deep sigh. "They wanted to get me a birthday present to remember them by—thing is, I'll always remember them, but they won't remember me or mum."

Harry looked away, trying to give Avalon the chance to hide his forming tears. They continued walking, drawing closer to Hagrid's hut. Harry cleared his throat. "I used to have a Firebolt. It got destroyed, but I liked it a lot."

"Sorry to hear that. Firebolts are excellent brooms."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "I've got to get myself a new one soon. I always forget I don't have it until I need it."

"Are you in need of one now?" Avalon asked.

Harry looked at him. "What?"

"Do you need a broomstick now—for something?"

"Well," Harry paused. "I had an idea. I was…" He stopped. "Never mind, don't worry about it."

"I'll let you borrow mine if you need it. Mind you, I'll need it back for Quidditch, but when I'm not using it, you could surely use it."

Harry pondered for a moment before a smile appeared on his face. "I just might have to take you up on that offer. I'll let you know."

"Sure, any time."

They continued walking. "If I don't borrow it from you sometime, can I at least have a go on it?"

Avalon nodded. "Of course. It'll knock your socks off."

"What's the handle made of?"

As they approached Hagrid's cabin, they came upon a group of students lingering around the edges of the Forbidden Forest. Harry gripped his wand tighter and paused, but Avalon took a deep breath and moved forward.

"You all know that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students," Avalon said in a serious manner.

"Oh, I was always wondering why they called it the Forbidden Forest!" One of them spoke up.

"Don't get cute with me. What are you doing around here?" He looked around all of them disapprovingly.

"What do you care?" Another spoke up.

"It's my business to care," Avalon said. "You'll get yourselves hurt in there if you're not careful."

"Fine," One of them snapped.

Harry noticed the green and silver trimmings on the uniforms. He recognized some of the students, but did not know all of their names. They all eyed him of course as they cleared out and moved back towards the castle.

"As you were saying?" Avalon approached Harry.

The group of Slytherins muttered between themselves led by Spyros Catassus back towards the castle. "What's that _Potter_ doing here?" One of them asked.

"I think the answer should be obvious." When he wasn't answered, he cleared his throat. "He's here because of that stupid little stunt that some of you pulled."

"The writing?" Graham Pritchard spoke up.

"Bravo," Spyros said apathetically. "Now everyone will be sticking their noses into it, making our job much more difficult."

"Sorry," Some of them muttered.

"As if it isn't difficult enough as it is!" Spyros hissed, making the others fall silent. "We're barely hanging on by a thread."

Cain Rigel, who was silent, until now spoke up, "Maybe we should just lie low for a while. You know, not do anything."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Spyros spat. "Give you more time to daydream about that little half-blood of yours?" He turned sharply at a surprised looking Cain. "Yes, I know all about your little doodles on parchment papers and ogling in the hallways."

"I was just suggesting that we…"

Spyros pointed his wand at Cain's throat. "Get your head where it belongs, Rigel. There are more important things going on here. You of all people should understand the price of what's at stake here. _We_ were given a task, and _we_ _will _complete it. _We're_ the _only_ ones who can do it. Now get your priorities straight!"

Satisfied with his threats, Spyros turned around and started walking again with the others following nervously behind. "Where we going now?" One of them spoke up.

"To the library," Spyros said.

"I…" Cain spoke up and Spyros quickly rounded on him. "…I…have Quidditch tryouts this afternoon."

Spyros rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for games anymore, but I suppose. We can't look like anything's out of the ordinary, can we?" He turned around and continued onward.

* * *

Minerva stood silently in front of her desk, looking on in at the portrait of Dumbledore. Sure, sometimes the portrait assisted her like an old friend, but more than she would care to see, the portrait version of Dumbledore was either snoozing, visiting friends, or humming show tunes. This time, he was asleep. She sighed deeply. "What am I to do, Albus?" Were resentful sentiments still alive and breathing within Hogwarts itself? Was the battle really over? What actually happened to her niece, Matilda? How would Aurora be able to heal from losing both of her parents before her eyes? How should she react to Aurora's relationship with a Slytherin student? Would the teachers she hired really do the job well? Her thoughts were interrupted with the loud snore that escaped Dumbledore's mouth. She stood her head in agitation as she aroused back to reality. It was then that a knock came to the door.

"Come in," She answered, taking a moment to find her voice.

"McGonagall, glad to find you here."

The Headmistress turned around, immediately frowning. "It's Headmistress McGonagall."

"Yes, yes," Alfred Pickcomb charged forward. "I have wonderful and important news."

"And what is that?" Minerva returned to her seat behind the desk and sat down. Mr. Pickcomb had already taken the liberty of sitting.

"The Council for the Order of Merlin has unanimously decided to award the Order of Merlin to one of your very own, McGonagall."

The first person who came to the Headmistress' mind was Hermione Granger. After all, she along with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were responsible for undermining Voldemort's power by destroying the Horcruxes; however, in this messed up Wizarding World, she figured it would not be Hermione."

"Avalon Stratford!"

"I figured as much," She said crisply. She had nothing against the boy. In fact, all the other professors reported him as well-behaved, intelligent, and rather pleasant. However, it seemed so unusual—and perhaps unfair—that he received so much attention over the three students she watched fight and loose so much to win this war.

"What?" Mr. Pickcomb looked taken back. "You don't think he deserves it?"

"I didn't say…"

"The boy is a hero, Minerva!" Mr. Pickcomb said, giving a hard thump to the ground with the end of his cane. "He saved the lives of twelve Muggles during an attack, tended after a sick mother, kept those Muggles in hiding for almost ten months, and fought Death Eaters very step of the way."

"There are a lot of heroes, Mr. Pickcomb," The Headmistress said.

"Still, would you deny that the boy isn't among one of them?"

"I wouldn't deny it at all," Minerva said. "He was brave and did a lot of good things, but so did many others. We mustn't focus merely on one, but we must remember all the brave souls and sacrifices that were made to win the war."

"I know that, Minerva!" He said impatiently.

The Headmistress leaned gently forward. The air in the room suddenly became thick and tense. Formerly disinterested portraits silenced and turned their eyes towards the scene unfolding. "It seems highly unusual to me that the Ministry chooses to focus merely on one of these heroes, and it isn't even the one that everyone would suspect—the one that everyone in this world owes a debt of gratitude towards…"

The old grandfather clock in the office boomed loudly. Mr. Pickcomb immediately stood up from his chair and reached for his hat. "Well, this has been a pleasure, but I really must be going."

"So soon?" The Headmistress couldn't suppress a smirk.

"I'll be heading out, but please inform your student of the committee's decision. I suspect that the boy will need a couple of days leave to attend the ceremony."

"Absolutely not."

"We'll talk later!" Mr. Pickcomb left the office.

The portraits flinched at the words that came out of the Headmistress' mouth.

* * *

Students passed in droves towards the Great Hall for dinner. Aurora McGonagall scurried down the steps ready to eat—Quidditch always made her hungry. With a dreamy look in her eye, she thought about all the desserts and pastries that might me on tonight's selection.

"Aurora!" A voice called out.

At first, she tried to pretend she didn't hear it over the noise of the other students, but she couldn't ignore him any longer as he came close. "Oh, hi." She said.

"Congratulations. I heard the news." Cain said to her. "Everyone's saying you're really good. Great even."

"Thanks." Aurora said. "I'm not really that good though."

"Oh, I bet that's not true," He said, brown eyes beaming enthusiastically.

She looked up into his face. What was wrong with her? Any girl would dream to have a guy like him constantly trying to get her attention and flattering her with compliments. Why didn't she like it? Why did that face, and that voice, and his presence make her feel uneasy? Why did it feel like they had met before, and that the meeting wasn't a pleasant one?

When she didn't answer, Cain glanced around for a moment then reached back to rub the back of his neck nervously. "I play Quidditch too. I'm a beater. So…I guess we'll play each other on the field then…"

"Yeah, I guess…"

"So, um, do you like music?"

Aurora raised an eyebrow, noticing the awkward shift in conversation. "Yes."

"Aurora, I've been looking for you!"

Cain and Aurora turned towards the stairs. Avalon came jumping down the stairs two or three at a time until he finally reached them at the bottom of the stairs. "You forgot your ink in Charms." He pulled a bottle of metallic purple from his pocket.

"Hey, I was looking for that." She reached out and took the bottle. "They changed up the formula again. I can't get this color anymore."

"Oh, drat," Avalon said, imitating a girl's voice.

"Oh, shut it!" Aurora snapped back as Avalon snickered.

Cain glanced back and forth between the two. "I need to get going," He quickly departed towards the Great Hall.

"Who's he?" Avalon asked, watching as the Slytherin boy rushed away.

"Nobody. It's not important."

"Ah, Mr. Stratford, just the person I wanted to see." The Headmistress came through the corridor. "Miss McGonagall," She acknowledged her niece with a smile and nod. "I'll need to see Mr. Stratford alone for a few moments."

"Alright," Aurora headed off towards the Great Hall.

"Am I in trouble?" Avalon asked, looking at the Headmistress a little frightened.

"No, you're not in trouble," She said. "Why—did you do anything wrong?" She quickly asked with a serious tone.

"No," Avalon squeaked, shaking his head.

"I recently had a meeting with Mr. Alfred Pickcomb. He has informed me that the Committee of the Order of Merlin has decided to bestow an award upon you."

Avalon only stared at her for a few moments before giving a small sigh and looking away from her eye contact. "Is that all?"

"For now," She said. Her arms folded as she studied the boy's reaction. "I must confess that I have never seen anyone look so solemn after hearing that they are to receive membership into the Order of Merlin."

He quickly looked back at her. "It isn't about me." He shook his head bitterly. "It isn't even about those Muggles."

"What do you mean?"

"He's just trying to save his image." Avalon looked away again. "Any decent person serving as Head of Muggle Relations would have been immediately removed by the followers of You-Know-Who when the Ministry was overrun, and yet, Mr. Pickcomb kept his job. People are getting suspicious of him. He needs to use someone like me to save himself."

Minerva couldn't suppress a small smile. "Very astute, Mr. Stratford, even if it is a regrettable circumstance."

"He only wants me because he knows that Harry would put him in his place. The whole world knows it. He only wants to blow up my story because nobody else knew about it. That way, he could shape it how he wants. The stupid prat!"

"And why do you let him?" The Headmistress asked.

Avalon sighed deeply. "It's the only way my mum will get the care she needs. As long as we're in the public interest, they'll continue making her cure a priority. Mum's smart though. She knows what they're doing. She wants me to stop, but how can I?"

"I see." The Headmistress sighed. "I'll respect your decisions, but I cannot have him interrupting the school schedule for his events."

Avalon nodded. "I understand."

"You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Professor." Avalon started to walk away.

"Oh, and Mr. Stratford," She called out.

"Yes," He turned back toward her.

"I have a few old acquaintances at St. Mungo's. I'll send them an owl and ask them to make it a priority for my sake."

Avalon nodded. "Thank you."


	11. The World's Most Dangerous Potion Ever!

Chapter Eleven

**The World's Most Dangerous (and Embarrassing) Potion Ever!**

Another sleepless night drove the Headmistress into her office to review paperwork and administrative tasks. Thinking that going over the school fiscal records would put her to sleep was a good assumption, but it turned out to be wrong. Despite the fact that a copy-cat (pardon the pun) attack had happened on the school grounds, everything seemed to be returning to normal. Hate-owls and howlers seemed to be coming in fewer and fewer numbers, students generally seemed at ease and comfortable, and the teachers seemed to be performing well.

She sighed for a moment—there was still no sign of her niece. The Ministry of Magic had not been able to find the woman who was attacked nearly six months earlier. McGonagall knew that she was going to have to snuff out and flicker of hope that burned inside her heart for the return of her beloved niece. The old Headmistress stood up from her chair, removing her glasses and rubbing her tired eyes. She turned a small cabinet in the office and opened the doors. In front of her, silvery misty swirled within the magic pensive. She reached up for a vital of liquid and poured it into the basin below.

McGonagall found herself standing inside a warm and cozy house built of red bricks and large wooden beams. The fire place cackled and radiated warmth inside the house. This was the manor she grew up in as a child. Ever since the McGonagall family moved from Scotland to Wales many generations ago, they lived in this house. And there she was, sitting upon the couch reading a book. She was a few years younger—her hair still mostly dark instead of grey. Lines were starting to form along her face and eyes, but as compared to the present, she was almost twenty years younger.

The young McGonagall closed her book as voices approached the door.

"Do we really have to do this?" A man's voice spoke.

"What better time than today?" A woman answered back.

"You know they won't like it. They'll blame me for ruining their Christmas or something."

"They'll just have to accept it. No going back now." The woman grasped the door handle and burst into the house. "We're here!"

"Matilda!" The young McGonagall leapt off the couch and hugged her niece.

"Aunt Minerva! You look so well!"

Relatives poured from the kitchen. First came Matilda's mother, greeting her daughter with warm hugs. Her mother's two sisters followed afterwards with cheek pinches and kisses. Cousins came with greetings, hugs, and warm welcomes. Finally, Matilda's father came. He grabbed the girl into a massive hug and spun her around the room to everyone's delight.

"Uh, hello, everyone." Mark said, still standing in the doorway.

"Close the door, boy, before you freeze the house!" Matilda's father said looking over at the man before turning back to his daughter. "Happy Christmas, darling!"

One of Matilda's aunts started poking at Matilda's side. "Someone's been enjoying _Honeydukes_ a little too much, eh, sweetums?"

Matilda's mother looked over her daughter. "Yes, you are looking a little fuller. I was worried he wasn't feeding you enough…"

"She eats just fine, Helen." Mark said.

"Yes, mother, I'm fine." She said with a slight laugh. "In fact, I'm more than fine." She said, taking a step back from her family. They all focused their attention on her, surveying her actions. She continued backward and reached out for Mark's hand, which he took. "I suppose now is as good of a time as any." She looked to Mark then back to her family. "Everyone," She couldn't help but look at Mark again. "Mark and I are going to have a baby."

There was a moment of silence before everyone erupted in excitement. The family reached forward and pulled Matilda into their midst for hugs, belly rubs, and kisses. Again, Mark was left by the door alone. As the older McGonagall watched the scene unfold, Mark merely walked over to the corner of the room and sat dejected onto an old stool.

The Headmistress pulled out of the memory with tears stinging her eyes. She missed the sweet face of her niece so much that it hurt. And the memory of her hypocritical actions hurt as well. She had spent her time in two wars to protect the Muggles, and yet, when it came to her own family, she rejected them. She had to take off her fogging glasses and laid them upon her desk. No matter what, she vowed to herself that she was going to be more support Aurora's decisions in life, whether she understood them or not.

* * *

The girl, seventeen years later from the pensive, stood in front of her mirror at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry brushing her long black hair. Satisfied, she laid the brush down on her dresser and picked up her lip gloss. She traced her lips carefully, giving them a beautiful shine.

"We've got to get going—that is, if we want breakfast before class." Ginny said to her roommates.

"Coming!" Hermione said, gathering the last of her supplies into her bag.

Aurora laid down the lip gloss and reached for a small bottle of perfume. It was cold to the touch—like ice. She gave herself a small spritz then set the bottle down. She quickly headed for the door, grabbing her bag along the way, and exited with the other 7th year girls from the dormitory.

At the same time, the 7th year boys came barreling down from their dormitory. It made for crowded quarters down the stairs, through the common room with other Gryffindors, and down the winding staircases towards the Great Hall. By the time they reached the entrance hall, everyone else was trying to get into the Great Hall for breakfast too.

"If you wouldn't have decided to experiment with that ridiculous eye shadow spell this morning, we wouldn't be late!" One Ravenclaw girl hissed to another. "At least you don't have to go all day looking like this!" The girl with whom she was taking turned towards the Gryffindors, which they all flinched at the sight of what looked like a double-black eye encounter.

Avalon Stratford found himself a bit preoccupied with thoughts rather than to be irritated with the large crowd. Sometimes thinking about an idea filled his head and imagination for hours, making it difficult to notice the little inconveniences in life such as waiting in lines. As he pondered upon the theories of transfiguration, a pleasant scent tickled his nose and danced around his mind. He took in deep breaths of the delightful scent and looked around for its source. In such close quarters with students pressing all around, it wasn't too difficult to find. He looked up into her face.

She noticed him looking at her. Aurora reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yes?" She asked, a little annoyed.

"Uh," He realized just how dumb he probably looked at that moment. "I smell something."

She looked rather offended.

"Something nice!" He added quickly. "Like a sweet smell, but also it reminds me of a cold winter's day." He looked a little confused.

"It's my perfume then." She said, formally. "Cherry Frost."

"Oh," He said. "Smells nice."

She wasn't paying attention anymore.

The bottlenecked crowd finally loosened up and the students were able to get to their respective tables to have breakfast. Professor Pascal was moving up and down the table passing out parchments to students. He finally came up to the seventh years.

"Has anyone lost their permission forms to go to Hogsmeade? I have extras here." The students answered no and he continued on, bumping into a Hufflepuff on his way to breakfast."

"Sorry about that, Mr. Whitby." The Professor said with a smile. Kevin Whitby nodded with a smile as the Professor left and then sighed.

"It's really a shame," Kevin said.

"What's a shame?" Ginny spoke up from the Gryffindor table.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts—it's cursed. He probably won't make it throughout the year. Poor soul. I liked him though."

"You're talking as if he's ready dead!" Hermione spoke up. "And besides, the curse on that job is broken."

"As far as you know," Kevin said matter of factly. "Explain to me why McGonagall had such a time getting someone to even take the job?"

"Because nobody wanted to teach a git like you!" Ritchie Cootie spoke up. "Now leave our House Professor alone! Or I'll curse you and all your descendants."

"That's if _you_ don't die first!" Jimmy Peakes added.

Kevin closed his mouth and continued forward.

"That's about the third time this week I've heard that." Dean Thomas spoke up. "I don't see why anybody thinks Professor Pascal's going to die."

"I'm going to die?" The Professor questioned with his thick accent from behind.

"Professor!" Dean spun around. "No, I didn't mean…"

The wiry man burst out into hearty laughter at the sight of Dean's frightened face. "I may have an eye missing, but I haven't died yet with all the hazardous things I've done."

"But people think your job is cursed, Professor. Doesn't it bother you that people think you're going to die?"

"I am going to die, Dean. In fact, statistics say that 100 out of 100 people will die within their lifetime."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle which eased the tension.

The Professor looked over all of them. "I take risk seriously, but not at the expensive of living." He paused for a moment. "My wife used to always say to me, "_Joie de vivre_…"

"The joy of living," Hermione translated.

The Professor nodded.

"Was she French?" Ginny asked.

He nodded. "Yes, born and raised." He looked towards the staff table. "Anyway, I must be going. See you all in class."

Ginny sighed deeply.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"He still loves her."

"Who?" Jimmy Peakes asked.

"His wife," Aurora supplied, rolling her eyes. "Boys!"

"Oh," Jimmy and Ritchie uttered together, starting to understand the situation.

"How long do you think she's been gone?" Jimmy then asked.

"Remember in class what he said?" Hermione spoke up.

Avalon nodded. "Since the first war. Almost twenty years."

The conversation was limited the rest of breakfast.

* * *

That afternoon, the seventh years headed down to the dungeons for a double helping of Potions class. In the past, this would have been the equivalent of being hanged, drawn and quartered for high treason—that is, having double potions with Professor Snape. These days, however, things ran a little differently with Professor Slughorn. He wasn't a bad teacher, sometimes perhaps a little longwinded with his stories of famous people, and of course, there was his blatant favoritism towards certain students—but other than that—he was alright. It was much better than having your guts hated.

At least, Ginny thought that feeling was gone until she nearly ran into the new teaching assistant for Slughorn, Miranda Mirkwood. As the seventh years headed through the dungeon corridors, they almost ended up plowing Professor Mirkwood over, and she happened to be carrying potions.

The pale and thinly woman took in a deep breath and surveyed the students before her with a large scowl on her face. Those dark eyes pierced through the student before her, making them squirm uncomfortably.

"Sorry, Professor," Ginny uttered. "I guess we came around the corner too quickly."

Professor Mirkwood only grunted before continuing on with her mission.

"She's kind of scary." Aurora said.

"Yeah," A Hufflepuff, James Tuckett , uttered in complete agreement. "I still haven't gotten used to her yet."

"At least she knows what she's talking about," Orla Quirke, a Ravenclaw, said to with which Hermione wholeheartedly agreed.

"Scary or not, we better get in there or we'll be late." Ginny said as they entered into the specific room set up for potions.

On double Potion days, the class usually brewed a certain potion during the first hour and worked on their essay reports during the second. Today they had brewed the Volubilis Potion with little to no problems, except for a few voice changes for those who chose to sample. Between the class periods, the students put away their brewing materials and began to start their essays about today's lesson and potion.

Thinking it would be funny, a Slytherin suck out his foot while a Ravenclaw passed by. The boy fell forward and flung his cauldron forward. The empty cauldron crashed into the back table, breaking a few beakers and vitals and causing general chaos.

"Are you alright," Many of the students said at the same time.

Professor Slughorn barreled through the crowd, pushing his big belly forward. "What's happened here? What's all the commotion? Mr. Porter, are you alright?"

The Ravenclaw, Alex Porter, boy stood up and brushed off his robes. "I'm alright, Professor, I just…tripped." He caught a look from a couple of mocking Slytherins.

Professor Slughorn observed the messed up counter. "Well, quite fortunate. Only a couple of empty beakers," He looked to a Hufflepuff girl. "Miss Zeller, would you clean this up while I got fetch some new beakers?"

The girl nodded, giving a flick of her wand. "Reparo!" For the books, she placed them back by hand, careful to make sure not to bump the potions that were on the burners. One satisfied, she returned to her seat. However, one of the simmering potions had its lid askew.

The class was quiet and settled down once again to being work on their essays. Avalon had already started his essay and was past the introductory paragraph. The gears in his mind started to turn furiously as he wrote about the potion he brewed today. The other boys at his table noted his work ethic.

She was feeling a bit rushed and disheveled today, but as she took a deep breath in, she felt much more relaxed. It was curious. Instead of the normal musty smell of the dungeon, Hermione could smell the faintest scent of new parchment. Perhaps it was the parchment she was writing her essay upon, but it didn't seem that new. Then, for some reason, she started to remember a common image during the summer time—her father cutting grass at home. He always had trouble with their old lawn mower and many humorous events ensued because of it. Next, she thought she smelled something else. She blushed deeply. She however shook her foggy head and went back to work.

Ginny was starting at her textbook, looking frustrated, as she pondered over her assignment. However, her face relaxed greatly, almost taking upon a dreamy look. She found herself hungry as images of some of her mother's cooking came to mind. It seemed so real that she swore she could smell it. Next, for some reason, she thought of the wildflowers that grew near the burrow. She always loved lying in the tall grass on that hillside and smelling the pretty scent of those flowers. Most unrelatedly, she thought of a memory of one Christmas many years ago. Harry Potter sat in the living room at the Burrow by the fireplace. Everyone was talking wildly and enjoying each other's company. She sat quietly on the couch watching everyone else. As she gazed across the room, Harry met eyes with her and offered a warm smile. She couldn't help but be bashful around him, but she managed to smile back. The smell of fresh burning wood seemed to cancel out the musty smell of the dungeon. Oh, that's right. She was supposed to be working on an essay. Ginny cleared her thoughts and went back to work.

Aurora was scribbling away furiously on her parchment when memories started to flood her mind—not a particular memory, but many. Her father was a photographer and artist. Often, their house smelled of art supplies and materials. A small smile came to her face as she thought of her father. Even though the Wizarding community could not understand his art—his still photographs and un-magical materials—she loved his art. He was truly talented, and he did it all without magic. Oddly, another thought came to her mind. Even though it was a bright and sunny day today, she loved the smell of a cool fresh rain coming from a thunderstorm. It was something both her and her mother enjoyed. They would crawl up onto the roof of their house and watch the storms approach. Sometimes her dad would join them, but often, he did not, knowing it was the best time for mother and daughter to bond. Images of something else started to come to her mind, but immediately, she shut them down. She forced herself back to work.

Avalon continued to work at a fast pace. For a few minutes, he relentlessly described his experiences with brewing the Volubilis Potion, but as he was about to reach down into his bag for a book, a curious scent filled his nostrils. As a child, he remembered visiting the Great Library of Alexandria in Egypt (currently believed to be destroyed according to the Muggle population). The library was filled with ancient tomes from all over the world. He remembered the scent of the ancient parchment, papyrus, and leather-bound books. A small smile then came to his face as another euphoria washed over him—the scent of fresh, cool mountain air made him feel as though he were riding his broomstick high in the clouds without a care in the world. He then started to smell something else, something fruit like.

"Hermione," Ginny whispered. "I thought it turned back to red after green, but everyone else has been saying pink. What do you think went wrong with mine?"

"Probably not enough honeywater," Hermione said.

"That or you had your burner too hot," Aurora whispered. "Likely, the honeywater though."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

Ginny looked back at the directions. "I thought I put enough in,"

A feverish tingling came over him, his thoughts were distracted. He felt anxious and sweaty. He kept trying to work on his essay but the longer that time passed, the less he cared about it. He started mumbling incoherent things to himself while fidgeting in his chair.

"Dude, you alright?" Steward Ackerley, a Ravenclaw asked.

"Yeah, you don't look so good," Alex Porter, the boy who tripped, said, surveying Avalon. "Maybe you should go to the nurse."

Hermione looked up, across her table.

"I can't stand it anymore!" Avalon threw down his quill.

"Uh,stand _what_?" The Ravenclaw boys asked.

He looked at them, fiercely impassioned. "Her fair complexion…beautiful gorgeous eyes…long and shin black hair…" Then a dreamy look washed over his face, "so sweet and yet so cold…like a winter's day."

Aurora, who was back to back with Avalon, found herself shooting straight up in her seat with her eyes bulging. Hermione and Ginny looked completely dumbfounded.

"She's everything I want!" Avalon exclaimed louder so that the whole class was disrupted by now. He shot up out of his seat.

"Mr. Stratford, what is the matter with you?" Professor Slughorn called from his desk.

"I'm in love!" Avalon exclaimed with his arm wide open. "I'm in love! I'm in love! I'm in love!" He chorused to his classmates to which they began to laugh.

"What the blazes?" Professor Slughorn stood up from his seat.

Things got even stranger. While Avalon hugged himself and twirled around the room singing, "I'm in love," the door flew open and Professor Mirkwood stepped inside holding her potions from earlier. Once Avalon caught sight of her, he ran over to her, almost knocking a Slytherin girl over, and kneeled before her. "Miranda Mirkwood, I love you. Will you marry me?"

The room was dead silent. Avalon looked at her hopefully, clasping his two hands together, waiting for an answer. Professor Mirkwood stood stern faced looking down at the boy in front of her.

"Please?" He asked with a cute smile.

She laughed. And it wasn't just a small one either. Nobody in a million years would have guessed that Miranda Mirkwood had the capability of laughing, but here she was, cackling until her sides were about to explode. Even though her laughter was exactly like that of the classic Muggle portrayal of a cackling witch, she still clearly found it humorous to no end. The other students started laughing too.

Avalon rose to his feet, looking angrily at everyone. "What's so funny? Huh? Huh?" He continued to look at all of them so seriously which made them laugh even more. "I love her! And if being in love makes you a fool then I guess I'm the biggest one of the all!"

Avalon turned to Miranda. "How about it, darling? Will you marry me?" He closed his eyes and lunged forward to kiss her cheek.

"There will be no public displays of affection in my classroom, Mr. Stratford," Professor Slughorn said, catching the collar of Avalon's robes and yanking him back.

"Professor, what happened to him?" A concerned student asked.

"I think I know the answer to that," Professor Mirkwood spoke up.

"Of course you do!" Avalon said. "You're so smart, darling,"

The female Professor's cool demeanor was back to normal. She ignored Avalon's advances and turned her attention to the students and Professor Slughorn. "I brewed up a sample of Amortentia for a potions survey in fifth year classes."

"So someone gave him your potion?" A student asked.

Professor Mirkwood walked over to the counters with the burners and looked at the crooked lid. She then pulled the lid. A swirling potion with a distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen and steam arose in spirals. "No, the cauldron is full. It doesn't look like anyone helped themselves to a draft of it." She looked at the euphoric boy, still wearing her usual scowl, I better go and brew the antidote.

"A good idea." Professor Slughorn said.

As Professor Mirkwood left, Avalon tried to reach out of her. "Don't go! I love you!"

Professor Slughorn looked around at his students, but still tugging at Avalon's collar to keep him away from Professor Mirkwood. "For 50 house points, can anyone tell me what is happening to Mr. Stratford.

Clearly it was a difficult question. First of all, Slughorn had offered 50 house points for its answer, and secondly, Hermione Granger's hand did not immediately shoot up in the air. He waited however as the students thought it through.

"Maybe someone only gave him a little bit of potion. Not enough to notice it was gone." Someone spoke up.

Avalon started giggling madly and dancing in place. That answer clearly was not correct. Hermione slowly raised her hand.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger." Slughorn looked to her.

"I believe I remember reading somewhere once—although it was a very long time ago—that some people are more sensitive to the certain effects of potions than others."

Slughorn nodded with a smile. "Go on, Miss Granger."

"In the case with Amortentia, I seem to remember that even the slightest smell of it could cause euphoria in certain individuals, although the case is rare."

"Very good, Miss Granger! 50 points to Gryffindor!" Slughorn looked at his students. "Miss Granger is correct. What we have here is someone with a rare ultra-sensitive reaction to Amortentia. Unfortunately for Mr. Stratford, even the slightest scent may induce—well…" He looked over at the boy behaving rather strangely. "It is likely that Mr. Stratford would be affected by other forms of love potion as well seeing that their key ingredient is…" He looked to the class.

"Ashwinder eggs," Hermione said. "Although rose thorns, peppermint and Moonstone are common ingredients also."

Slughorn nodded. "Precisely."

"Why are some people sensitive and others are not?" A student asked.

Slughorn shrugged his shoulders. "Some have suggested that just as the attractiveness of the giver's looks is important in determining…"

"You know who's attractive?" Avalon interrupted. "Miranda Mirkwood!"

Slughorn spoke up, "In determining the lasting quality of a love potion that perhaps the attractiveness of the receiver plays a part. Others suggest it is merely an allergy to a certain property in the potion. Cases such as these…" He had to give another tug on Avalon's collar. "…are really quiet rare. Not enough study has been done."

It only took a couple of minutes for Professor Mirkwood to come back with the antidote. Avalon's eyes lit up. "I knew you'd come back! Not even fate could keep us apart!"

Professor Mirkwood handed Slughorn the vital then walked away. Avalon frowned. "Darling, I don't understand! Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about her, Mr. Stratford." Slughorn said.

"How can I not?" Avalon really started to look worried. "What if something happens to her? How would I feel about myself then?" He started to tear up.

Slughorn sighed. "Oh, dear." He looked to a Slytherin student. "Mr. Hensen, would you take Mr. Stratford out into the hallway and administer the antidote?"

The student nodded and took the vital.

Slughorn gave one last look at Avalon. "Make sure he drinks it _all_—_every last drop_."

The student nodded and grasped a hold of Avalon's arm.

"What are you doing?" Avalon looked angry. "Nobody touches me but Miranda Mirkwood!"

"Mr. Hensen is going to take you to Miss Mirkwood," Slughorn assured Avalon. "But first you need to drink a special potion that Mr. Hensen has for you. It'll calm your nerves. You don't want to be all nervous and flustered when you see her again, do you?"

Avalon shook his head vigorously. "You're right. I don't."

"Come on then," The student guided Avalon out into the hallway. Once they left small giggles started to break out again.

"Well, _that_ was most interesting." Slughorn said with an exasperated sigh. "There's a reason why they call it the world's most dangerous potion." He walked back over to his desk. "I knew I should have stayed in retirement," he said, mumbling to himself.

The students stood motionless for a few moments, giggling and whispering. Hermione stood out of her seat looking towards the door to the hallway. She felt sorry for Avalon, and yet, couldn't help think that this was sort of funny. She glanced over at Ginny who seemed to be having the same thought, but as she glanced over at Aurora, she looked rather unhappy sitting in her seat away from the crowd.

"AWE, BLOODY HELL!" Avalon yelled angrily, clearly not in love anymore, from the hallway. It was then that whispers and giggles became uncontrollable fits of laughter within the dungeon.

* * *

It was not a fun day for Avalon Stratford after potions class. Besides having a throbbing headache, everywhere he went, people teased him relentlessly for declaring his love to the world's crankiest professor. Students thought they were clever when they'd say things like, "Should I expect my invitation to the wedding by owl?" or "Are you two registered at Magical Menagerie yet?" but Avalon ended up hearing those jokes at least twenty times before dinner.

All of his classes were finished for the day so he headed in the direction of the Great Hall, but reaching the Entrance Hall and finding a whole crowd of students waiting for dinner made him think twice.

"Oh, look its _Big Head_ Boy," a student piped up.

Avalon spun around, clearly not amused. Behind him were some of the same Slytherin students he yelled at a couple of days ago for being too close to the Forbidden Forest. "You have no business with me. Just get going," Avalon tried to say without blowing his lid.

"Why, you waiting for Professor Mirkwood," Spyros Catassus smirked.

Avalon flushed bright red. "You do realize that I can take house points from you, don't you?"

"For doing what?" Graham Pitchard spoke up. "We're not doing anything wrong!"

Avalon glanced up as Ginny, Hermione, Aurora, Jimmy Peakes, Ritchie Cootie, and Dean Thomas came down the stairs. Flustered, angry, and red in the face was not how he wanted his friends to see him.

Spyros laughed as he watched Avalon become more flustered. "Looks like you're going to freak out again."

Avalon gritted his teeth and charged up the stairs. His fellow Gryffindors parted quickly to let him through.

"Hey, man, where you going?" Jimmy called to Avalon.

"I have a headache!" Avalon snapped as he stormed upstairs.

"Or he's got a date with Mirkwood!" The Slytherins started making cat-calls and kissing noises.

"Cut it out, right now!" Hermione stepped forward, stamping her foot.

The Slytherins only laughed as she threatened them. "Jealous, _Big Head_ Girl? Jealous that you and _Big Head_ Boy aren't an item?" One of the boys spoke up.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've got better things to worry about that you lot." She continued down the stairs.

Aurora looked into the crowd of Slytherin boys. Cain was with them, but he seemed to be really interested in his feet at the moment.

"Oh that's right," Spyros said with a smirk. His voice dripped with cruelty more than the others. "A pureblood like _Big Head_ would never dare touch a filthy Muggle-born like…"

Spyros' voice started belching like a frog. Aurora stood with her wand pointing toward her victim and a large smirk upon her face. When she took a step forward however, the smirk washed away. "If I ever hear you insulting Muggle-borns again..."

"Aurora," Hermione put her hand over Aurora's wand hand and lowed it gently. "It's alright."

Aurora regained her composure. "I'm sorry,"

Spyros only stared her down furiously, but as he tried to retort something angrily, all that came out was the sound of a large bull frog. He stormed off and his followers quickly behind him.

"That was awesome!" Ritchie Cootie laughed.

Ginny nodded fervently. "Amazing reflexes—like a cat! Can't wait until our first Quidditch game! See if they can get the quaffle through your hoops!"

Hermione sighed as they continued downstairs. "You know, I really should take away house points for that action."

"Oh, come on, Hermione! You wouldn't!" Jimmy Peakes exclaimed. "She was defending you, wasn't she?"

Hermione sighed again, looking at Aurora. "Next time, I'll have to. I can't play favorites."

Aurora nodded. "I understand."

"Thank you though," She gave a small smile with Aurora returned.

They entered into the Great Hall. "Look, its Harry and Ron!" Ritchie exclaimed. The group walked up to them and greeted the two former students.

"See you both were conveniently around for dinner again," Ginny said, taking a place at the table.

"We're working hard to solve this crime," Ron said.

"And what have you found?" Ginny asked.

"Absolutely nothing," He said, smiling as Hermione tackled into him. He threw his arm around her while continuing to talk to his sister. "I guess it was just a stupid stunt."

The rest of them sat down as food started appearing on the table. Ginny started putting mashed potatoes on her plate. "You really think we're not going to see anything else then?"

Harry pondered for a moment. "I don't know. It would seem that way, but something just doesn't settle with me right."

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"The other day, Avalon and I were walking away from the Quidditch fields when we saw a bunch of Slytherins hanging around the Forbidden Forest." He looked over at Ron as he told this story since he hadn't even told Ron about it yet.

"So?" Ron shrugged. "Fred and George used to sneak off into the forest all the time."

"That's because they're idiots!" Ginny said. "Nobody in their right mind would do that."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged glances with one another.

"Speaking of Mr. Popularity, where is he tonight?" Ron looked around. "Not hearing interviews, camera flashes, or girls screaming."

"Ron, you really shouldn't call him that. He's just like one of us." Hermione looked saddened. "Besides, he had a really rough day today."

Ron's nose wrinkled.

"What happened to him?" Harry asked, looking mildly concerned. "Anything suspicious?"

"No," Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry's seriousness. "Apparently he has a sensitivity to love potion. A few sniffs and he went nuts today."

Harry raised his eyebrow, remember how Ron acted over tasting love potion. "Who gave it to him?"

"Nobody," Ginny said. "He just had to smell it. Unfortunately, he wound up falling in love with Professor Mirkwood since she brewed it."

Harry and Ron immediately started laughing hysterically.

"Stop it!" Hermione chided. "How would you like it if it was you?"

"It was me, remember?" Ron said. "But _that_ wasn't funny," He stopped laughing once he thought of himself going gaga over Romilda Vane.

"So it's only funny when it's not you?" Hermione looked angry.

"Uh, yeah?" Ron said.

Hermione slapped her boyfriend upside the head and crossed her arms over her chest. "I for one do not think it's funny. He's probably hiding in Gryffindor Tower right now because of what happened."

"So?" Harry said. "Hiding isn't going to help."

"Well, what would _you_ do?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess when you have people trying to kill you all the time some things become a little irrelevant."

Hermione sighed. "Boys are so insensitive. You never think about how things make people feel." She sat up straight, resolved. "I'll just have to take him some dinner when we go up to the dormitory tonight since nobody else seems to care."

Ron scowled as he looked down to his shepherd's pie on his plate.

"You didn't get a vat of love potion did you?" Harry looked at Aurora, who was picking at food on her plate with her fork but not really eating.

It took her a moment to notice that someone was talking to her. "Huh? Me?"

"What's the matter?" Ginny asked. "You looked distracted,"

"Nothing. I'm fine." She put on a smile. "Just not hungry."

Everyone continued talking through dinner.


	12. Spyros' Task

Chapter Twelve

**Spyros' Task**

She headed up to Gryffindor tower alone holding a wrapped dinner in her hand and her school books in the other. After seven years of schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione did not need to pay attention to the gaps in the stairway or the fact that the stairs liked to shift and change—she knew all their idiosyncrasies by heart. She headed towards the tower un-phased by the shifting of the stairwells. Finally, she reached the top and was greeted by the Fat Lady. The new password was _West Ham_, something Dean Thomas suggested after being inspired by his favorite football club. Likewise, it was something that everyone could agree upon and was something not likely to be guessed by the magical students that would have no clue about Muggle football clubs.

It was a long day, and it was late at night by the time Hermione entered the common room. A few students were still up in the common room, but sitting by the fire, Avalon sat alone in a chair with his pet falcon on the armrest. Hermione walked over and took in the other chair. "Are you alright?" She asked, referring mainly to the incident that happened in potions class either that day.

He shrugged while continuing to absentmindedly stroke his falcon across the back.

"I brought you something." She handed over the dinner she packed. "I had the House Elves make it for you."

He finally looked over at her while he took her offering. "Thanks. How much do I owe them?"

"Pardon?" She looked confused.

"I assume they made this off the clock," He said opening up the roast beef sandwich. "I should compensate them for their time."

Hermione beamed. Her S.P.E.W. efforts were perhaps not in vain after all. "I think that would be very considerate of you."

Avalon slowly began to pick at his dinner, still clearly upset from today's events, but he still ate what was brought to him.

Hermione noticed Avalon's bird staring hungrily at the sandwich, but the bird did not make a move toward it.

Avalon noticed Hermione's gaze. "He's already been fed. Otherwise, he wouldn't be this polite." He gave the bird a small piece of roast beef which the bird happily gobbled up. Avalon then dug a galleon out of his pocket and handed it to the bird. "Can you take this to the kitchen? To…" He looked at Hermione.

"To Meriwether," Hermione supplied.

The bird took the galleon and flapped off the armrest of the chair.

She couldn't handle it. She just had to say something. "You know, out of all my time spent in the wizarding world, I haven't seen anyone as compassionate to House Elves as you are."

"Well, I grew up with a few House Elves…"

Hermione's face changed from pleasure to disappointment instantly.

"They aren't our servants." Avalon said, noticing her demeanor. "I owe them much more than that."

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked intrigued.

Avalon pondered for a long moment, staring at the fire. "When we were on the run last year, it was the House Elves who helped us—bringing us food, clothes, medicine, or whatever we needed. Nobody paid attention to the House Elves—how powerful or clever they could be when they want to protect someone they love. I suspect we wouldn't have made it without them."

Hermione nodded, remembering the sacrifice Dobby the House Elf made for the ones he loved.

He sighed. "I grew up in the countryside without a lot of other kids around. The House Elves played Quidditch with me whenever I was lonely. Granted, they liked to cheat most of the time, but I suppose it's the thought that counts. "

Hermione chuckled. "They must really love you and your mum."

Avalon nodded. "I think it is easy and natural for a House Elf to love and adore others. It is sickening how wizards take such advantage of their loving and compassionate nature." He paused for a moment. "They love and adore others so much that they become worse than slaves. I'm not sure what is worse—telling them not to be as innocent and pure to protect themselves from absolute slavery or letting them be abused in order to keep their pure nature."

It was at that moment that footsteps came tromping down the stairs from the dormitory. Aurora stood in her pink pajamas at the last stair as she saw Hermione and Avalon sitting together.

"Aurora, what are you doing up?" Hermione asked.

"I think I left my Charms book down here." She dropped of their stair and headed towards one of the tables. "Yeah, got it."

"Well, it is almost curfew. I suppose we should head up." Hermione said. She looked over at Avalon who was interested in something on the empty side of the room.

"Yeah, see you up there." Aurora headed back up the stairs.

"Well, this has been an enlightening conversation, Avalon. We'll have to continue sometime later."

"Yeah," Avalon looked bit embarrassed for some reason.

Hermione paused for a moment. "I'm really sorry about what happened today. I know that couldn't have been fun."

"It wasn't your fault." Avalon stood up from the chair.

"I know, but I'm really sorry that had to happen."

Avalon sighed for a moment then smirked. "Yeah, well don't ask me if you can be the Maid of Honor. I've got fifty other people who want that position."

"Of course not," Hermione said. "I'm the wedding coordinator."

They headed up the stairs for the night.

* * *

The next day was a usual day at Hogwarts. The library was packed with students before lunchtime, but as lunchtime drew near, students started to thin out of the library. Soon, it became much more quiet and easy to focus. It was just then when other students finally left the area that Sypros closed his Herbology book and moved in closer to his five fellow Slytherins. Underneath his Herbology book lay an ancient tome filled with archaic English and worn pages. It was thin, worn, and old but by the way Spyros guarded it, it was priceless.

"Okay, let's review again for those of you who look absolutely clueless." He looked towards his especially draft classmates, Reece Harper and Miles Bletchley. "How did Harry Potter defeat The Dark Lord?"

"He used Exepelliarmus, but there must be more to it than that." One of them, Graham Pitchard, spoke up.

Spyros nodded. "Right—now we need to find out why."

"Why bother?" Harper asked. "Why can't we just go snuff Potter's life out and be done with it?"

Spyros rolled his eyes and snipped, "What makes you think you can defeat him when the Dark Lord couldn't?"

For that, the other student didn't have an answer.

"We need to find out why! If we have any hope of reviving the cause, we need to find out why! If we have any hope of bringing the Dark Lord back, we need to find out why Harry Potter was able to succeed where all others failed!"

"Potter didn't come to school last year," Miles Bletchley said. "He was hiding scared for months. What's so special about him? He's a coward!"

"He was probably doing something when he was in hiding," Spyros said. "But what?" He pondered for a few moments until he looked over at Cain Rigel, who was doodling on his homework scroll.

Cain noticed and looked up. "Sorry."

James Urquhart spoke up, "He was seen a couple of times. First, at the Ministry. Not a word for months after that until he was caught by snatchers and taken to the Malfoys around Easter. After that, Gringotts. Then finally at school during the battle."

"Yes," Spyros nodded. "Naturally, they didn't plan on stopping at the Malfoys, but the Ministry and Gringotts—why were they there?"

None of them knew the answer.

"From what my father heard, they stole a necklace from Delores Umbridge when they were at the Ministry." Spyros said.

"Why?" Harper asked.

"Yes, why steal a necklace? Why go somewhere you are wanted and risk exposure only to steal a necklace?" Spyros pondered. "Obviously, it must mean something."

"Maybe we should ask her about it—Delores Umbridge." Harper suggested.

"Not unless you fancy paying her a visit in Azkaban," Cain Rigel finally spoke up.

"She was sent there for her cooperation with the Dark Lord's forces." Spyros said with a renewed fire in his eyes. "We're going to make sure that all wrongs are vindicated."

"And what about Gringotts?" James Urquhart continued the conversation. "What were they doing there?"

"I don't know." Spyros said. "Obviously Gringotts protects wizards' gold and other precious items. I doubt Potter wanted money. He couldn't spend it anyway—not with being wanted and all. Perhaps there was something in his vault he wanted to defeat the Dark Lord. The thing is though, he didn't use anything special."

"What about that sword—that Gryffindor sword? It was missing at the beginning of the school year and the professors were going crazy about it. I thought they had found it." Graham Pritchard said.

"It's just a sword? Who cares?" Miles Bletchley said.

"Yeah, but they brought it to battle. Remember that Longbottom dufus? He had it. He killed the Dark Lord's snake with it," Graham continued.

"So maybe Potter broke into Gringotts to get the sword, but why? What's so special about the sword?" Harper asked.

"That's what we need to find out," Spyros said. "Harper, you research the sword while the rest of keep searching for more clues. In the meanwhile, I'll see if I can find anything about that locket of Umbridge's. It has to be important. He wouldn't have gone there if it wasn't."

Harper looked annoyed. "Why me?"

"Because you can't handle much more than reading something straight out of a book." Spyros said. He looked around the library. "We better get going before we look suspicious."

The six Slytherin boys cleared their things off the table and left the library empty. They headed down to lunch a little later than the others, but still not late enough to arouse any suspicion. As he led the pack, a small grin formed upon Spyros' face. Where others had failed the Dark Lord, he would succeed.

* * *

Alone that afternoon, Harry Potter wandered the quiet halls of Hogwarts Castle. Most of the students were in their afternoon classes or at the library completing today's homework. Only when he passed by a classroom would he hear the sound of other souls. As he paced down the third floor he walked by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. This was his favorite class. Despite the spotty education he received during his time at Hogwarts for this class, Harry had emerged as one of the most talented wizards today in combating the Dark Arts. He peered into the classroom for a moment and listened in on Professor Pascal's lecture on shield spells to a group of first years. He felt a small twinge of jealously as he listened to how well the new professor spoke on this subject and how kindly he answered students' questions.

The Professor looked up, seeing Harry look on in from the doorway, and motioned Harry to come in if he wished. Harry declined with a negative nod and polite smile. As much as it would have been fun to go inside and listen, he had work to do. It was his job, for Kingsley Shacklebolt, to keep an eye on the school. Besides the recent graffiti written on the wall, everything has seemed calm at Hogwarts. However, it was difficult to shake the feeling that something dark was looming. Perhaps it was just the fact that Harry had to live his entire life under the dark clouds of Voldemort's terror, but it was difficult to shake the feeling of horror and dread that had followed him his whole life. Harry shook his head though, trying to erase those thoughts—those memories. He was free now. Voldemort was gone. His scar did not hurt anymore. The world was light once again. It was over. The thing that occupied so much time and energy in his life was gone now. Now, the task that lay ahead was to find a new purpose in life.

He left the Defense Against the Dark Arts room behind him and headed out towards the Grand Staircase. He had been making his way up each corridor on the west side and heading toward the top. Ron was on the east while Thor was in the dungeons. He pondered more about his new role—Auror. After the kind of life he lived, being an Auror perhaps seemed like the only logical choice. Perhaps there was flying—Quidditch. Maybe, he shrugged, trying not to go there, if none of this would have happened—if Voldemort would have never killed his parents—maybe he would have grown up to play Quidditch someday. He knew he was good—but he wondered if perhaps good enough to play for England. But, he sighed, dreams like that were from an age of innocence. Now, tainted with the cares and worries of this world, he knew that protecting the world from dark witches and wizards was a much more valuable use of his time.

Perhaps Ginny though would play Quidditch professionally one day. It seemed as if there was no limit to her potential. She only seemed to grow more and more in her skills as a leader and as a seeker for Gryffindor. The more he thought on his, the more and more attractive she grew in his mind which reminded him, he better had get things sorted out between the two of them.

Harry was so deep in thought that he did not realize that Avalon Stratford was approaching, saying hello. It took him a moment, as they headed towards one another in the fourth floor corridor. "Oh," Harry shook his thoughts away. "Hello. What are you doing out here? The period isn't over yet."

"Test. Professor Babbling let me go early since I finished," Avalon said, feeling a little interrogated with Harry's wand pointing at him.

"Oh, sorry," Harry lowered his wand.

"On edge?" Avalon asked, glancing around the corridor.

Harry looked around too, his eyes slowly drawing over the details of the corridor. "No, I'm fine." He sheathed his wand.

"I suppose you're looking for whoever did it—the writing."

Harry furrowed his brow. "How did you know that?"

Avalon looked a little bashful. "Well, you're here more often than coincidence. I was just putting two and two together. And, Headmistress McGonagall asked all the prefects to keep an eye out."

Harry glanced over Avalon's Head Boy badge. Maybe he would have been Head Boy like his father if he would have stayed. "Ron and I are helping his brother George out in Hogsmeade. That's why you see us around a lot."

Avalon didn't look satisfied. "But you're here and not there."

Harry sighed. "Yes, alright, it's a ruse! But you've got to keep it quiet!"

Avalon nodded. "I understand, but may I offer some advice?"

Harry gave him a look that said 'continue.'

"You shouldn't all come at once. Otherwise there won't be enough people to man the store." Avalon said. "After all, I imagine running a business can be pretty busy."

"Right," Harry nodded, silently kicking himself for not being discreet enough.

"Anyway, Harry. I was wondering if you were still game for sitting down sometime and talking." He started to sound a little embarrassed.

"Talking?" Harry pondered.

"About your scar," Avalon said, sheepishly.

"Oh, um, well…I guess."

"Is now a good time?" Avalon asked.

Harry pondered for a moment. "Well, I really should finish my rounds, but I…" He looked over at Avalon and remembered the mother of this boy. She had been so kind to him and bought him an owl, it was the least he could do. "…I suppose if you wouldn't mind coming with me."

"I wouldn't mind at all," Avalon beamed.

The two of them spent the afternoon walking the corridors and talking.

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione sat in the library feeling quite proud of herself. She felt like her Ancient Runes test had gone exceptionally well. Now, she was pulling off an equally exceptional transfiguration essay with an illuminating smile on her face as she dotted the sentence she just finished. However, Ginny, working on the same exact assignment, did not have the same enthusiasm as her study partner. Hermione came down off cloud nine, and noticed Ginny's fist pressed firmly into her check and the deep sigh escaping from her lips. "You alright?"

Ginny looked up. "Fine."

Hermione scrutinized the look on Ginny's face. "You don't look fine."

"Really, I am." Ginny closed her book. She noticed that they still had two hours before dinnertime, but she didn't care. "Just feeling tired that's all."

It was then that Aurora came back to the table with a large stack of books. "Last copy," She said, pulling the top book off the stack and handing it to Hermione. "I had to wrestle it away from some Ravenclaw bloke. They're hogging all the books!"

"Thanks," Hermione said, setting it down instead of opening it straight away.

Aurora set the books down then took a seat. She noticed the look on Ginny's face. "Something wrong?"

"No," Ginny lied. "I'm fine."

Hermione and Aurora exchanged glances then went back to their work.

Just as the three started to get back to work, a little tiny owl excitedly flapped its wings with small tweets along the way. It landed on their table and danced around happily with a letter in its mouth. The baby owl relished in the attention that Hermione provided as she stroked her hand over his back. The letter was addressed to Ginny.

She gingerly reached out for the letter and took it from the little owl. Instead of flying away, the little owl continued to put on a performance of cute for Hermione and Aurora. She opened the letter.

_Ginny, _

_Don't bother with to dinner tonight. Meet me in the courtyard instead. And don't worry, I've already got it approved with McGonagall. _

_ Harry _

_PS. Almost forgot—dress warm! _

Ginny peered over the top of the letter to see Aurora and Hermione huddled together staring curiously at her. Once they saw her eyes, they immediately—and completely obvious—went back to work on their essays.

"Aurora, what was the counter spell for…"Hermione and Aurora both started giggling at the same time.

"Oh, come off it!" Ginny rolled her eyes. She looked down at the little owl happily dancing on the table top. "This must be Harry's new owl." She reached out and gave it a gentle pat on the head. "Your name's Knut, right?"

The little bird excitedly began to squalk, disturbing other students.

"Shhh," Aurora looked around. "If Madame Pince catches us…"

Ginny quickly dipped her quill in metallic blue ink and scratched a reply. She gave it to Knut, and the little bird took off from the table.

The three girls mused as it flew away.

"Cute little thing, isn't he?" Aurora said.

Ginny nodded in agreement, looking much more chipper. "If I remember correctly, it was Mrs. Stratford who bought that owl for Harry."

"Mrs. Stratford," Aurora questioned.

"You know, Avalon's mum." Ginny said. "Harry said it just showed up at George's shop, but he said he was looking at it earlier that day in Diagon Alley and she happened to come up behind him."

"That was very kind of her," Hermione said to which Ginny agreed.

"Apparently, she's real sick," Ginny said.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I've heard."

The three of them fell silent for a moment. After a while of thinking, they quietly went back to work on their assignment. They managed to get fifteen minutes of undisruptive study time in until a group of noisy boys walked into the library.

Spyros Catassus came into the room, leading his usual group of friends. They didn't seem to mind their disruptive behavior, but in fact, they seemed to relish in it as some of them purposely knocked over stacks of books on other students' tables.

Aurora looked up for a moment. As Spyros took a small step to his left, Cain Rigel's face emerged from behind him. Within seconds, a feeling of dread washed over her as she caught a glimpse of his face. Her skin grew cold and pale, and instantly, her head began to thunder with pain. The faintest sound of a scream filled her head.

They continued on.

As fast as it came over her was as fast as it stopped. The unpleasant feelings lingered for only a few seconds, but her heart and mind continued to race. Hermione and Ginny both stared at her with eyes wide open.

"You looked like you were going to be sick," Ginny said looking very concerned.

Hermione looked worried too. That moment of pain and terror upon Aurora's face didn't look all too different from the same fits Harry used to have. Whether dream, memory, or vision, something seemed to torture her.

Aurora took a moment to find her voice. "I'm…fine…" She managed to say. "I just felt a little sick to my stomach, that's all. Maybe a touch of the flu."

"Oh no! You're not getting sick with the first Quidditch match in two weeks!" Ginny scolded to break the tension.

Aurora still looked a bit peaky but cracked a smile. "Absolutely not. Quidditch or die."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

Up in Gryffindor tower, Aurora sat Indian style on her bed with her pajamas already on and wrapped up in her blankets. She gave in to Hermione's chiding and agreed to stay in bed for the rest of the night. However, instead of resting, she insisted on helping Ginny get ready for her rendezvous with Harry Potter.

Since Harry said "dress warm," Ginny was finding it difficult to "dress warm" and yet look attractive for her outing. She sighed as she looked through her outdoor wear. Her mother was a little busy to make her any new scarfs, mittens, or hats over the last year due to the war and so her winter wear was looking a little shabby.

"Wear my black coat. The one in the closet," Aurora said.

"I couldn't," Ginny said.

Aurora nodded. "Oh, you could, and you should. I'll get…"

"No, I'll get it." Hermione bade her friend to sit down and retrieved the coat from the closet. She handed it to Ginny.

"Thanks," Ginny muttered, a little embarrassed. She slipped on the coat and looked herself over in the mirror. "Well?" She looked to her two friends.

"Good," Hermione said.

"And a scarf—that one, for the color." Aurora said, pointing to a particular one.

Ginny grabbed a scarf and threw it around her.

"Great!" Hermione said, noticing the effect of the scarf. "I should have you dress us more often, Aurora."

Aurora shrugged at her abilities.

"No, really. You're quite artistic."

That word made Aurora sigh. Her father was artistic. Granted, he was a painter and not a fashion expert, but it was the same idea.

"Anyway, we better get going," Hermione said. "You stay here and rest, Aurora. I'll bring you something back."

"You know, I'm fine really…" Aurora started to say.

Hermione only looked at her then tapped on the Head Girl badge on her own shirt as a joke.

Aurora rolled her eyes and lay down in bed. "Seriously?" She said with a slight laugh.

"Let's go, Ginny," Hermione said. "Harry's waiting."

"Yes," Ginny said while looking in the mirror one last time. "Harry's waiting."

* * *

Ginny gingerly stepped outside the door to the entrance courtyard. It was very strange to not be heading to dinner with the rest of the school, but this was where Harry told her to meet him. It was already starting to grow dark and the temperature was dropping fast. What was it that Harry wanted? Did he have to speak about some new mission or did he have some interesting piece of information about the recent graffiti on the wall?

It was just then as she walked out into the empty courtyard with her head full of thoughts that Harry Potter rode in from above on a broomstick. He was dressed much neater than usual with a pair of black slacks, dress shoes, and a neat looking dark coat.

"You combed your hair down," Ginny said as Harry came to a hover just above the ground next to her.

Immediately, the cowlick on the back of his head sprung up. Harry pressed his lips firmly together and sighed. "Took, 45 minutes to get that to lay flat."

Ginny looked at him with a bemused look on her face then her eyes glanced down at the broomstick. "A Kamikaze? You bought a new broomstick?"

Harry shook his head. "Ran into Avalon today. Let me borrow it for tonight." He extended his arm. "Hop on,"

Ginny used his arm as a guide to seat herself right behind Harry. "Well, make sure you give it back. We've got a match coming up," She said teasingly. Although she wondered how awkward it would be for her llto thank Avalon for letting them borrow his broom for a date.

"Alright, here we go!" Harry said, relishing the feeling of flying on a Kamikaze a little too much. He kicked hard off the ground and shot up into the sky, even making Ginny scream a little in surprise.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked, recovering from the initial jolt of take-off.

"That is a surprise."

However, on the ground, Spyros Catassus looked up from the shadows of the entrance courtyard. He had been outside again that late afternoon. He was pushing the limits of after dark curfew, but he had to remain still and quite in the shadows until that Potter and Weasley left the courtyard. He watched as their image faintly disappeared into the evening sky before he made a move for the doorway.

He was already frustrated as it was. No matter how many places he looked in the Forbidden Forest, he could not find any clue as to what happened that night with the Dark Lord and Harry Potter. According to his father, who was present among the Dark Lord's rabble, Harry Potter was struck with the killing curse. He was pronounced dead. The Malfoys said it was so. But somehow he lived. But wait, he thought to himself. The Malfoys seemed to escape any punishment for their crimes. Anyone who was known to cooperate with the Dark Lord was thrown straight into Azkaban. His own father only managed to escape by keeping a low profile and claiming _"It was the Imperious curse!" _if anyone asked. He had many classmates and friends whose parents were in Azkaban right now for their allegiance to the Dark Lord—he even had a sister in Azkaban—but the Malfoys were not in Azkaban! They must have lied to the Dark Lord! Harry Potter never died! The Malfoys were turncoats!

As much as that bothered him, something bothered him even more. How did Harry Potter survive a second time? The first time, the Dark Lord knew what went wrong—Lily Potter's sacrifice protected Harry. But there was nobody to protect Harry the second time. What was it about Harry Potter that the Dark Lord was not able to defeat him? If they had any hope of defeating Harry Potter, reviving the cause, and possibility bringing the Dark Lord back, he had to figure out the answer to this question. His role in the task was important. The remaining Death Eaters and followers of the Dark Lord couldn't search the grounds at Hogwarts, but he and his friends could. They were the only hope of reviving the dark cause.

Perhaps he would write to his father on his recent thoughts.

* * *

Not that they weren't having fun doing it, but Harry purposely took his time in arriving at the planned destination. Although he couldn't go as fast with two people on the broom, they tested the merit of the Kamikaze broom against their familiarity with the Firebolt, Nimbus, and Cleansweep series.

"Definitely faster than my old broom," Ginny yelled over the cold wind lapping in her face.

"It's faster than the Firebolt, but it handles a little less well." Harry shouted back. "Littler harder to stop and turn."

As they approached the mountains, Harry spotted the place he designated earlier. He sent the broom into one last loop before heading straight down into a gentle glide. High up in the hills, Harry had prepared a small fire, a picnic blanket, and a basket.

"Ta-da!" Harry said as they hopped off the broom.

"How long did you have this planned?" Ginny said, grateful for the thought but a little put off with the cold.

Harry thought for a moment. "About five hours,"

"That all?" Ginny sat down on the blanket next to the fire to warm herself. "How did you ever get Avalon to let you borrow his broom? And how did you get McGonagall to let me out of the castle at night? And how did you get everything ready…"

"Well, I had some help," Harry admitted. "Ron packed the basket…"

"Ginny wrinkled her nose as she was about to look in the basket. Ron eats just about anything.

Harry laughed at her face. "I told him what to pack. I just asked him to pack it."

Relief washed over Ginny's face.

"As I said, I ran into Avalon today. He's wanted to ask me about my scar for weeks now." Harry carefully laid the broom down in the grass and took a seat next to Ginny. "I finally was able to give him what he wanted so I guess he was keen to let me borrow his broom. In fact, it was more his idea than mine."

"Hmmm," Ginny pondered. "And McGonagall?"

Harry was hoping she didn't ask. "Well, at first she was dead against it. I begged her for about ten minutes with the same answer until…"

"Until?"

Harry sighed. "I told her exactly why I wanted to take you out past curfew. She made me give her every detail," Harry said with a blush. "I felt like some gossipy school girl, but then she was okay with it."

"So McGonagall knows more about this than I do?"

"For now," Harry said. "But let's eat." He pulled out some sandwiches from the basket.

* * *

The dinner table was incredibly awkward that night. Harry and Ginny were up in the mountains, and Aurora was in her bed at Gryffindor tower. Ron, Hermione, and Avalon were the only ones sitting in the 7th year area in the Great Hall. Avalon, who might normally talk to Ritchie Cootie and Jimmy Peaks, couldn't speak with them because they were hard at work on some assignment. So he sat quiet, feeling some sort of odd tension, as he ate his dinner.

Ron seemed to be in some sour mood. Hermione did not say much to Avalon or Ron for it only seemed to make things worse. She might only utter something about needing the pepper and that was all.

But she grew tired of that. Instead, she tried to break the silence with conversation that might get both boys talking. "So I hear that Gryffindor will be playing Slytherin their first game, is that correct?"

Avalon looked up from his fish dinner. "Yeah, that's right. It won't be an easy game. They're shaping up decent as a team. I don't know what they've been like in years past…"

"Shouldn't be a problem for you, should it?" Ron slipped. "Seeing since you're so good at everything."

Avalon looked a little bewildered. "Well, um, I'll try my best if that's what you mean."

Ron only grunted in response.

Hermione looked at Ron with a look of confusion and frustration all mixed into one.

"Oh, yeah, and you got yourself a Kamikaze. If you're not good enough then at least your broom is."

Hermione's look started to polarize more towards frustration than confusion after that remark.

"Yes, it is a nice broom." Avalon said, not knowing what to say. "It was a surprise birthday present. I'm really quite grateful to have it."

"But really, there like a dime a dozen right?"

"What do you mean?" Avalon looked really confused.

"Oh you know, going out and lending it. It must not be_ that_ precious…"

Avalon was starting to get mad. "Harry is my mate. I lent it…"

"Harry is my _best_-mate," Ron added. "We've been _best_-mates ever since we came to Hogwarts."

"So what?" Avalon put his knife and fork down and stared at Ron.

"So, don't go kidding yourself," Ron said.

"Ron!" Hermione chided. "Stop it!"

Instead of keeping the argument going, Ron looked hastily at his watch. "I have to get going. I suspect that George needs me at the store."

"But dessert hasn't even appeared…"

"I have to go," Ron snapped. He stood up from the table and hastily zipped up his jacket. He walked out of the Great Hall.

"Ron!" Hermione called after him, a little too loudly, and attracted the attention of some of the other students nearby. After he left through the great door , Hermione turned back to her dinner. She exchanged glances with Avalon, who clearly looked mad, but his facial expression softened to sympathy. She tried to pick up her fork to eat, but instead set it down and stormed out of the Great Hall to the common room.

Avalon sat alone that night, finishing his dinner in frustration and bewilderment.

* * *

Harry and Ginny finished all the sandwiches and moved on to the dessert. He brought a chocolate pie purchased in Hogsmeade and started slicing it up into eight pieces. He first served Ginny then gave himself a nice sized piece.

"What do you think?" Harry asked as he watched Ginny take her second bite.

"It's good," was all she said.

"Something wrong?" He asked as he laid down the pie server.

Ginny didn't say anything for a moment. "I suppose I'm wondering why you wanted to come out tonight."

"Hmmm," Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

Ginny set her plate down on the blanket.

"Well," Harry said with a bit of a gasp. "As you know, things between us have been a little—unsorted." He paused for a moment when the sensation of his heart started pounding wildly in his chest. "Before I went away, I had to break up with you. I didn't want anyone to hurt you because of me, and if I never came back…"

"Don't," Ginny said.

"I'm lucky to be alive, Ginny." Harry looked somber. "I thought I might not make it, but here I am." He glazed off into the night sky for a moment. "I always wanted the best for you, and if I was going to die, I didn't want you to be mourning over me."

"Do you really think I wouldn't have mourned over you?"

Harry looked back at her, frustrated with the way he directed the conversation. He finally spoke plainly. "It doesn't matter now. I'm here. I'm alive. And I'm not letting you go. Ever."

"Harry," Ginny managed to utter just before he kissed her.

* * *

After a pleasant evening in the mountains, Harry dropped Ginny, his girlfriend once again, off back at the castle a few minutes before 8 pm. The Headmistress was very strict about this. Nevertheless, he was able to accomplish the task he set out to do. With a goodbye kiss, he took off into the night sky, shooting fast and high into the air. The night sky echoed with a scream of delight from the lips of Harry Potter.

He was back in Hogsmeade in seconds. He touched down near George's new joke shop and walked around the building to the back door. He maneuvered through the dark first floor towards the stairs leading up to the bedroom. He entered the bedroom to find Ron playing with one of the games in the joke shop and Thor reading a book.

"Lots of excitement here, I see," Harry said, taking off his coat.

Ron shot him a dirty look.

"What's the matter with you?" Harry asked, continuing to strip of his fancy clothing.

"Nothing," Ron muttered.

Thor set his book down and looked at Harry. "We are not going to the castle tomorrow."

"Oh, that reminds me," Harry said. "We're starting to look suspicious. You know, all three of us at the castle at the same time. A student mentioned it to me, and…"

"Who?" Ron asked.

"It was Avalon," Harry said. "He said that…"

"Oh, _Avalon_," Ron hissed. "Well, if _Avalon_ says it then it must be true."

"What is your problem tonight?" Harry snapped.

"Problem? What problem?" Ron said.

"You're being obnoxious," Harry went over to the closet for some more comfortable clothes.

"Sorry, I'm so obnoxious! Sorry, I can't lend you things like Kamikaze brooms or whatever…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Is that what you're upset about?"

"I'm not upset." Ron crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry put on his pajamas. "Look, Ron, you're my best-mate. No argument okay? No amount of broomsticks is going to change that."

Ron only grumbled while he continued to play with the game.


End file.
